Back to Us
by WordRunner
Summary: Repost. "And even though I know somewhere in his twisted heart he loved me as much as I still love him—maybe more, in some ways—I know I couldn't stand to live with him anymore. He was killing me, slowly and painfully, and I had to go."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the 50 Shades universe. It all belongs to EL James.**

 **A/N:** Fair warning, this is a cheat story. If that's not your thing, kindly hit the back button and find something more to your liking to read. Enjoy!

* * *

Sitting on the sofa I that came with the apartment when I move in, I watch the rain fall outside the window. It's always raining here, much like the place I just left. Shaking my head slightly, I turn to look at the blanket on the floor where Teddy has fallen asleep watching a movie. We've been here nearly six months and so far every day has been the same: Teddy wakes me up like clockwork at six in the morning, I make us breakfast, take a few pitiful bites of whatever I've made, and push the rest around my plate with my fork. I then get my son cleaned up, changed, and we hit the streets while looking for work. We have lunch, and look into other places until it's time for Teddy's nap. I then take him home, lay him down, and take the classifieds I picked up on the walk back to circle ads for jobs to apply for the next morning. When Teddy wakes, I cook dinner, we watch a bit of television, I get bored and grab a book, and Teddy falls asleep on the floor.

Routine is good. I can function with routine. With routine, there's no time for letting my thoughts drift to what brought us here, what we left behind and why, and how I'm possibly going to make life worth living for myself and my precious baby boy.

Teddy misses his father. Of course he does. For the first four years of his life, Christian was right there with us every second of every day, exerting his control and protection and love over us. Teddy was, without a doubt, his father's son. He looked up to his father with a twinkle in his eye as though Christian could never do any wrong.

 _Oh, Teddy, how desperately I wish you were right..._

I sigh, throwing aside my book to gather my son in my arms, managing to not jostle or wake him. Our apartment is tiny by a normal person's standards, but considering what I've gotten used to after five years with Christian Grey, it's a fucking closet. Seriously, I think my closet at the big house in Seattle was bigger than this place... But it's all I can afford. There's only one bedroom, which I immediately granted to Teddy. There had been enough changes in his life; he should at least have his own space. I usually sleep on the couch, though on particularly rough nights, I manage to crawl into my son's tiny twin-sized bed and we sleep like that. The bathroom is so tiny that the toilet might just as well be located in the shower. There's no real room to move around. The rest of the apartment consists of the kitchen/living room/dining room/entertainment room. They really are one tiny room. The stove cooks unevenly, the fridge has had a strange smell from day one that I can't seem to get rid of, the furniture isn't so much secondhand as fourth or fifth-hand. And I'm pretty sure we've got mice living in the wall.

But it's ours.

Despite knowing Christian is still depositing obscene amounts of my money into my bank account "for Teddy's expenses," I try my damndest to use as little of it as I can mostly depending on my income from my job as a barista/waitress. And I know damn well Christian is back home in Seattle on his computer, checking my bank account at the end of every day, and cursing my stubborn independence. I don't care. I'm doing this for me and I'm doing this for my son. I'm so fucking done bending over backwards (literally) to make that man happy. For five years, I lived for him. He was my heart, my soul, my best friend. He was my life. And I really believed he felt the same towards me.

Scratch that, I _knew_ he felt the same towards me. At least up until about a year ago.

 _Stop!_

Once Teddy is tucked into bed, I close the door softly and head out into the main living area where my phone is flashing at me. It's a notification, reminding me to call my mother. I have to set alarms to remind myself to do even the simplest things that might be considered outside my normal routine. God, I'm pathetic...

After grabbing a bottle of beer, something I only occasionally indulge in these days, I collapse onto the couch and grab my phone, hitting speed dial number three—my mom's number.

Surprisingly it takes her until the fourth ring to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," I say, trying to feign happiness. "Is this a bad time?"

"Ana! No, of course not. I just got in from buying groceries... How are you, baby girl? How's Teddy?"

I smile. "I'm good, Mom." Is it really lying when both parties are fully aware of the lie? "And Teddy is great. He's getting so big."

"I know, I got the pictures you emailed," she gushes. "That little boy is going to be a heartbreaker."

"Don't I know it..." I mumble wryly, taking a swig of beer.

Mom sighs. "How's London, sweetie?" she asks gently.

"It's okay. I think I've finally found a decent place of employment, so I won't have to work at the coffee shop anymore." Not that I really work there all that much, since I've got an almost five-year-old and it's summer vacation for the schools here... "And they have daycare benefits, so I don't have to worry about leaving Teddy with a stranger. I've already seen the facilities, they're right inside the building, and if he needs me, I'm right there."

"Well, tell me about the company!"

I take a deep breath. "It's a publishing company. A small one compared to Grey Publishing, of course, but I've met several members of the senior staff, and I have to say, I'm really excited about this, Mom."

"I can tell," she replies fondly. I hear her hesitate as I take another drink of beer. "Ana, I don't want to upset you, but I've had a few calls from Christian."

And there goes what semblance of a good mood I might have had...

"And what did he say?" I ask dryly,

Mom sighs. "Exactly what he's been saying for six months," she reports. "He misses you and Teddy. He loves you both more than anything in the world." I can't help the derisive snort that escapes from me. I blame the beer. "How long do you plan on keeping this up, Anastasia?"

Oh, she's frustrated. Using my full name. Surprised she didn't throw _Rose_ in there for good measure. "I don't know, Mom," I tell her honestly.

There's silence on the line for several long moments. "Sweetie, I know you don't want to get into what happened between the two of you," _understatement..._ "but do you really think this is the best course of action? You're keeping a little boy from his father."

That's a low blow. "Mom, don't do this," I warn, uncertain whether I'm about to yell or cry or both. "This is not about keeping Teddy from Christian or vice versa. I'm still working out what to do next, and right now, I can't stomach the thought of dealing with Christian Grey."

Another sigh. "Okay, sweetie," she says, sounding sad and resigned. "Look, I know a thing or two about throwing away a good thing. I saw the way you and Christian were together, how much he worshipped the ground you walked on, how dedicated he was to taking care of you and Teddy. I can't imagine what he could have possibly done to make you react like this, but Ana, please, think hard about what you're doing before you do something you'll regret."

I bristle at this. The only person who's done something they will regret was Christian. "I can't talk about this anymore, Mom," I tell her tiredly. "I'll call you next week. Give my love to Bob."

Before Mom can say anything more, I end the call. I should be used to this by now. This is how every conversation with her, Ray, and Kate has gone. And the few times I had the nerve to contact Grace and Carrick, it went much the same. They all look to Christian as the victim in this, when that couldn't be farther from the truth. I think as the weeks have dragged on, I've managed to gain a few sympathetic ears, but everyone took the same stance: Christian couldn't have possibly done anything so horrible to cause me to rip apart our family like I have. Clearly only Christian and I know the truth. That's fine for now; he needs support, too, and I won't be the one to turn his family against him, regardless of what he's done. I hate that after all of this, my first instinct is still to protect him.

I start a little when she felt a tear hit her hand. Setting aside my beer, I roughly swipe at my face to rid myself of the wetness on my cheeks.

 _Damn you, Christian Grey, even with 4,800 miles between us, you still make me cry._

I know what I'm doing will only hurt my son in the long run. Mom's right; a boy needs his father. Christian hasn't attempted to contact me directly in months. Through Kate, I've managed scheduled Skype chats so Teddy can at least see and talk to his father once in a while. I always stay way out of view of the webcam, though, usually just outside the bedroom so I can intervene if Teddy starts getting too upset. My heart breaks a little more during every chat, listening to how genuinely happy Christian is to speak with his son and hear everything Teddy tells him about what he's been doing and the friends he's made. Christian always ends every chat by telling Teddy to "give Mommy a big hug and kiss and tell her I love her." He knows I'm standing just out of eyeshot, and it's all meant directly for me. Teddy's too young to understand this, of course, so as soon as his father's face disappears from the computer screen, he rushes me, kisses me, hugs me, and tells me Daddy loves me very much. And I cry every time.

I hate this. I hate that I had to pack my son up and drag him away from his entire family, the people he'd known and loved from the day he was born. I truly wish with every fiber of my being that I could have found a different solution for this problem. I considered therapy, both for myself and Christian, as a couple, and separately. But then I realized we had gone the therapy route, several times. Never for something _quite_ this severe, but still... The therapy helped for a few months, but then something slipped, and we were right back to where we were before. He was still angry and cold; I was still bitter and lonely.

Don't get me wrong. Christian could be the sweetest, most thoughtful, loving man in the world when he wanted to be. Last year for our wedding anniversary, he dropped Teddy off with his parents and took me on a second honeymoon, complete with yacht traveling the European seas. It was incredibly, wonderfully, perfectly Christian. During those two weeks, we managed nothing more serious than a slight disagreement about what to have for dinner one night. I'd honestly believed everything would be fixed when we got home, that we'd be just as we were when we first got married. We would be that young, desperately in love couple we had once been. Christian even agreed on trying for a second child, something he'd been fighting for years.

But going home had been the beginning of the end. Within two weeks, we were at each other's throats worse than ever. He was spending more and more time at the office or staying at Escala or going out for a few drinks with Elliot. His business trips became more frequent and lasted longer than should have been necessary. I should have seen the signs. I should have known. I could have stopped this before it got as far as it did.

Who am I kidding? I always knew I could never be enough for him. I could never live up to the standards he needed to get by. Every molecule in my body fought against me whenever I tried to convince myself I could do what he wanted me to do. All of this shit was inevitable. I couldn't listen to his empty promises and reassurances again. I couldn't listen to him telling me I was everything he ever needed and wanted and more, not when I had seen the truth. I couldn't listen to him tell me, with tears streaming down his beautiful face, that he would change, and beg me to give him yet another chance.

And even though I know somewhere in his twisted heart he loved me as much as I still love him—maybe more, in some ways—I know I couldn't stand to live with him anymore. He was killing me, slowly and painfully, and I had to go.

As I finish off my beer, shut off the lights, and wipe the tears from my cheeks again, I climb onto the couch and bury myself beneath the comforting weight of blankets and repeat my mantra in my head until I cry myself to sleep yet again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Daddy!"

I'm halfway down the hall towards Teddy's bedroom when I hear my son's squeal and I feel my heart flip over as I recall the number of times I heard that squeal, which was immediately followed by footsteps that resembled a herd of elephants stampeding through the house, then several minutes of father-son roughhousing. Usually _that_ was rounded off by a little mommy-daddy time when Daddy made his excuses to get changed out of his work clothes and dragged me along with him.

It takes me several seconds to catch my breath and finish my short trek to my son's bedroom where I remain out of sight to listen to the conversation. Despite how very badly it hurts, I still want—no, _need_ —to hear his voice.

"Hey, Ted Bear!" comes Christian's enthusiastic response. No matter what was going on between us, our number one priority was to never let our son see the animosity between us. I know all too well the sort of effects fighting between parents can have on a child and I will never put my son through that. It hits me that I'm doing exactly that right now, however passively it may be. "You've gotten so big!"

Teddy's too young, but I can hear the emotion in Christian's voice as he undoubtedly roves his eyes all over his son, his carbon-copy.

"Yeah, Mommy says I grew two inches since last month!" Teddy happily informs his father.

"Does she?" Christian asks. Did his voice just crack...?

Teddy starts talking at a mile a minute, giving Christian every last detail of what he's been doing since they talked three days ago. It's almost painful how much energy it takes me not to run into the room and get a glance of my husband. I know it won't do either of us any good and I've managed to avoid it up until now.

When I tune back into the conversation, Christian is talking about Teddy coming to Seattle in a few weeks. It's the only time we've managed to arrange everyone's schedules for a visit. The plan is for Mia, who's working at some restaurant in Italy to fly here to London then take Teddy back with her to Seattle. Arrangements for Teddy's return to me got a little hairy for a bit. Apparently Christian has some business in Germany around that time and he was overly insistent that it would be no trouble at all to schedule a layover in London. Luckily Kate somehow managed to talk him out of it. I don't know what she said, but I do know I owe that woman everything. Between her and Grace, I've been able to avoid some of the messier aspects of my breakup with Christian, particularly when it came to making arrangements for Teddy and Christian to see each other.

Kate, at least, understood. A few years ago, she and Elliot were going through much the same thing as Christian and me. Clearly Kate is more forgiving than I am and eventually let Elliot back into the house, but not before promising a repeat offense would result in a home castration. Granted, I haven't had the stomach to discuss my situation with anybody, least of all Kate, who from the very onset told me Christian was bad news and never really warmed to him in the way I had hoped. Well, it seems she was right...

"...see if Mommy will talk to me for a second?"

I shake myself from my thoughts just in time to hear Teddy jump down from his bed where I have the laptop set up for him. I steady myself and rearrange my expression from utterly devastated and miserable to something that won't scare my son, just in time for him to pull the door open all the way.

"Mommy, Daddy wants to talk to you," he announces, tugging on my hand to drag me into his room and over to the computer.

Oh no... No. Nononono. This cannot happen. Aside from everything else, I'm a complete wreck physically and there is no way in _hell_ I am facing Christian looking the way I do with messy hair, thin body, paler than normal skin while he looks picture perfect and sexy with his just-fucked hair. Just thinking that phrase makes me cringe these days... Besides, if I give into this, it'll just prove I'm still under his spell, and whether it's true or not, I will not show any sign of weakness in front of him. Not after what he's put me through.

"Well, tell Daddy I'm in the middle of making dinner," part truth; I did just place an order for a pizza... "and I can't talk to him right now."

What's left of my heart breaks even more at the sight of my son's crestfallen face and I realize as young as he may be, Teddy's picked up on a lot more than I wanted him to, and this is his way to try and make things better between his parents. Nodding dejectedly, I blink back tears as my little copper-haired angel turns away and returns to the computer.

"Mommy's busy," he tells his father in a murmur.

Then I hear the exact same dejection from the computer speaker. "Oh. Well, that's fine." Christian's trying to put on a brave face for his son. I'm sure there will be quite the mess to clean up in his home office once this chat is finished. Christian clears his throat, though when he speaks next, his voice is still hoarse. "I have to get to work, buddy. I love you very much and I'll see you very soon, okay?" I don't hear Teddy's response; all my focus is on Christian. "Make sure you give Mommy a big hug and kiss for me and tell her I love her, too."

Teddy nods and I see his little lip quivering; he's fighting tears, too. "Bye, Daddy," he whispers, giving a pitiful little wave just before Christian ends the call. Teddy doesn't look up at me to pass along Christian's message like he always has; instead, he shoves the computer to the foot of his bed, turns onto his stomach, and buries his head in his pillow. I have to leave when I hear his first sob, unable to keep myself from breaking down, much less comforting a sad little boy.

 _What have I done?_

* * *

The rest of the night is spent in silence. My four-year-old is giving me the fucking silent treatment, no doubt a trait he inherited from his father. And I must say, Teddy pulls it off brilliantly.

We ate dinner on the floor together in front of the television. I watched my son pick at his pizza, taking a couple bites every so often, but he didn't shovel it down like he normally does. I tried to engage him in conversation, telling him everything I've learned about the new school he'd be attending at the end of the summer. I found his favorite cartoons and tried to spark him into conversation about those. I offered to take him to the park tomorrow. Since I've got a job now, which I don't start for another month, when the person currently holding my position retires, I've got time to spend with my boy before he goes off to visit his father for the rest of the summer. Not even the promise of ice cream can break him out of his sullen mood.

He doesn't fight bath time, doesn't beg me to read him a story before bed, and he only grudgingly allows me to kiss him as I tuck him into bed.

"I love you, Teddy," I whisper into the dark as I leave the room.

The only response is a sniffle.

For the first time since we came here, I truly wonder if I've done the right thing. My declining to speak with his father has upset Teddy more than anything else has so far. I knew this transition would be difficult on him—he couldn't possibly understand all the circumstances at his age—and I knew that at some point it would all catch up with him. Perhaps I was too naïve to believe it would hold off until I had better answers than "Mommy and Daddy just need to be apart right now."

I can't tell him the truth. That much I know. I just have to find a way to explain this in terms he can understand. And there is no hope in the world that whatever I tell Teddy won't be repeated to Christian once those two are reunited. So whatever I come up with has to be something Christian will back me up on; not that he's really got much choice in the matter. _He's_ certainly not going to tell his four-year-old why Mommy refuses to be in the same country as Daddy.

A dark thought passes through my mind and my blood runs icy in my veins. Christian will have Teddy for nearly a month, and in that time, Christian could tell Teddy... _anything._ But no, not even Christian Grey, master of all, would try to turn a small boy against his mother, not after what he went through as a child. Still, Teddy means the absolute world to Christian, and vice versa. Who's to say Teddy won't suddenly "decide" he likes it better in Seattle with his father? No papers have been filed yet; no discussions of custody have been had. As far as the law is concerned, Christian and I are still happily married, and Christian had more than enough money to manipulate things just enough to say Teddy is better off with him than with me. And if a divorce were to ever actually go through...

"Fuck," I murmur, staring blankly at the wall across from me. How have I not thought of any of this before?

 _You know why_. My subconscious, when she rears her ugly, snarky head, hasn't been too pleased with me lately... _Because you haven't decided things between you and Christian are over yet. Because you still think, even as bad as they are, things can be fixed. Because you still love him._

I roll my eyes, but can't think of a decent argument.

When I glance at the clock, I find it's nearly two in the morning and I'm still wide awake. I spent an hour or so cleaning, not that we've let the apartment get messy; another hour reading, though my mind was everywhere else but on what I was seeing on the pages; half an hour in the tub; and now I'm sitting on the sofa, staring dully at the television. I know better than to try sleeping now; even if I do manage to drift off, I'll only be awake within the hour crying my eyes out over some dream about Christian.

I yelp suddenly when my cell phone starts violently vibrating across the glass table sitting beside me. For a few seconds, I just stare at it, wondering who in the world would be calling me this late, knowing Teddy would be fast asleep. At this thought, I glance down the hall to see whether my reaction has woken my son; it hasn't, so I turn my attention back to the phone, which has moved to the edge of the table and is threatening to fall off. It silences and I continue to stare at it, confused. Whether it's from the late hour or the fact that my son won't speak to me, I don't know, but all my mental faculties have taken a leave of absence.

When I hear a soft double beep, I shake myself out of my momentary lapse and snatch up the phone. I don't bother checking the caller id, since whoever it was will have left a voicemail, and I feel my heart beat a frantic pace in my chest until the voice on the message stops it cold.

"Hello, Anastasia." Even if I hadn't just heard his voice over the computer a few hours ago, I would have recognized Christian's voice anywhere. My free hand shoots to my mouth to fight back a sob at the tone in which he speaks my name and at the memory of what that once did to me. Does it still? I squirm a little and I know the answer is still unequivocally yes. He sounds tired when he continues to speak, which just proves the tone he used with Teddy was a front. "I realize it's very late in London and you're probably asleep, but I just wanted..." He sighs. "I was sorry to hear you were too busy to speak with me this evening during my chat with our son." I think he may have emphasized the _our_ more than he would have done before I left him. "I just wanted to touch base with you in regards to Teddy's visit here in a week and a half, and once again extend the invitation for you to join him." This was the first issue Kate had to smooth out for me... "I understand if you have other obligations, but it might be good if you were to come. I'm sure Teddy will miss you terribly, and I..." He swallows audibly and I feel tears falling from my eyes. "Anyway, I hope you're well. Mia will be in contact in the next day or so to arrange her visit." He pauses, clearly uncertain where to go from here. "Ana..." His voice cracks. "Please call me back. I need to hear your voice, I need to know you're okay and you're safe. Please let me apologize again. Ana, I can make this right—"

I end the call, drop the phone to the floor, and curl up as the sobs hit me.

Over the next several days, Teddy very slowly comes back to me until he's finally back to the sweet, loving, funny little boy he's always been. I haven't returned Christian's call; I don't really know if I can. Hell, I haven't even been able to go back and listen to the rest of his voicemail.

Teddy is starting to get excited about his trip to Seattle. Mia called the morning after Christian to inform me she would be in town at the end of the week, a full three days before they were scheduled to fly back to the States. Much as I have missed that bubble of energy and desperately long to see a familiar face, I know exactly what is going to happen while she is here. Not even Christian can manage to ignore her for very long, so what chance have I got to resist her charms? She'll have me singing like a canary before the end of the first day.

The hours until Mia's arrival are flying by faster than what felt fair. I've done my very best to make our apartment acceptable to somebody used to only the finest of all things like the Greys were.

 _Like you were_... My subconscious is grumpy today. Nothing new...

Despite my current situation, I can't stand the thought of Mia coming in here, taking one look around, and feeling sorry for me. And of course, she can be expected to give Christian a full report at his earliest convenience, which of course makes me feel even worse.

"She's here!" Teddy's running around the apartment in circles, smiling so widely it's a wonder his jaw hasn't broken in half. It always makes me smile to see my boy happy. "Auntie Mia's here, Mommy!"

How he knows that before I do is beyond me, but I glance out the window at the sidewalk outside our building, and indeed Mia Grey is there getting out of a cab and looking around her uncertainly. I grin. "Come on, Teddy boy," I say, slipping on my shoes and grabbing my keys. "Let's go say hello!"

As we make our way downstairs, Teddy's excitement is starting to rub off on me. There haven't been many times in the past six months that I've given into letting myself be genuinely happy, but if ever there were a time, this is it. Before the elevator door opens all the way, Teddy is out like lightning, sprinting the distance between the elevator and front door. I follow at a more sedate pace, watching and smiling as Mia bends down to lift my son off his feet and wrap him in her arms. When I finally reach them, both of them are talking a mile a minute and it takes a minute or so for them to realize I'm even there.

"Ana!" Mia squeals, pulling me into a three-way hug between her and Teddy. "God, it's so good to see you!"

"You, too," I reply, feeling sad again all of a sudden. The last time I saw Mia was at a family dinner in Bellevue, before everything blew up in my face. Christian and I had fought that morning—I can't remember what about, but it was pointless—and we didn't even so much as look in each other's direction for hours. It didn't take much for the Greys to realize something was going on; in turn, Kate, Grace, and Mia each pulled me aside to ask me what was wrong. I told them as much of the truth as I thought I could get away with—Christian and I had had a fight, we'd work it out in our own time, and no, Kate, you don't need to string him up by the balls, thank you very much for the offer, though.

In hindsight, perhaps I should have let Kate string him up by the balls. Certainly would have cut out a lot of heartache for me...

Almost intuitively, I look over my shoulder at the feeling of being watched. _You have got to be kidding me..._ Standing just out of immediate eyeshot is one Luke Sawyer. The man hasn't changed a bit; he is still quiet and expressionless as he watched the three of us.

"Sorry," Mia whispers to me, seeing where my eyes are lingering. "He showed up at Heathrow baggage claim and I didn't have much choice in letting him tagalong."

I force a smile on my face. "It's fine," I lie. "I should have expected this." I turn to Sawyer. "Hello, Luke." Might as well be pleasant, right?

Sawyer nods respectively once. "Mrs. Grey," he murmured.

And even though I've heard him call me this a million times in the past, I can't help the flip my insides do at his words. "Come on," I tell Mia quietly, jerking my head back to the building. "Let's get your stuff dropped off inside and we can go grab a bite to eat."

"Perfect," Mia groaned. "I'm starving."

Before I can even reach for them, Sawyer rushes forward to take Mia's luggage then waits for me to lead the way. I'm nervous as I open the door to our apartment. I know no matter what Mia will be too polite to say anything about the place to my face, but for the first time, I look at the apartment— _really_ look at it—and wonder how I've let things go this far. Teddy deserves more than this, he deserves the very best of everything, but I've got him living in a shithole apartment, because I'm too prideful to use the funds Christian has provided to find us someplace nicer.

Unsurprisingly, I see the look of shock on Mia's face as she takes in our surroundings. Her expression changes rapidly from aforementioned shock to confusion, then briefly to anger before settling on sympathetic.

"I know it's not much," I hear myself murmuring defensively.

"No," Mia says quickly, turning her eyes back to me again. "It's fine. Sorry, it's just..." She looks around the apartment for a moment, then shrugs lamely, apparently unable to think of a suitable word. "Different."

I smile at her. "It's a shithole, Mia," I tell her, trying to show her I'm not offended by her thoughts. "Call it what it is..."

Mia grins. "Fine, it's a shithole, since you insist," she replied.

We drop Mia's luggage in Teddy's room where she'll be staying while she's here—Teddy and I will camp out in the living room—and decide it's time to get something to eat before Teddy goes into a full blown hunger tantrum. I turn around and see Sawyer standing just outside the apartment door, on his cell phone, talking quietly to someone. I inch a little closer, trying to confirm my suspicions about who is on the other end.

"Yes, sir. I understand... Yes, I will stay close by... Everything is clear from here, perimeter is secure. I will report if anything changes... Of course, Mr. Grey."

 _Goddammit..._ I don't know why I'm surprised. Or maybe not surprised so much as resigned to the fact that I can never fully escape Christian's influence, especially not where his son is concerned. I can't really blame him for the security, though; he was smart enough to give up arguing with me over whether he would be hiring an entirely new security detail to follow Teddy and me wherever we went. It's not that I've dismissed the very real threats that go along with being a part of Christian's life; I'd be a fool to do that after everything we've been through. But when it comes down to it, I need distance and not somebody tailing me everywhere, placing full reports to Christian every night about whether or not I've eaten. I have no doubt that there are eyes all around me, keeping an eye on things at a distance, with instructions to only intervene when absolutely necessary.

Part of me appreciates the fact that should something happen, Teddy and I aren't out here all on our own. I don't expect any trouble, but I'd never forgive myself if I let something happen to my son just because of my own stubborn independence.

Sawyer ends the phone call and turns back towards the apartment, freezing when he finds me watching him. He at least has the decency to look sheepish. "Mrs. Grey," he muttered, unable to meet my eyes.

"How's Christian, Luke?" I hear myself asking.

Expertly hiding his surprise, Sawyer clears his throat a little. "He's well, ma'am, under the circumstances."

I nod, turning away to wait on Mia and Teddy.

Dinner was positively delicious. Mia spent the majority of it commanding the conversation as usual, telling us everything she'd been up to since we'd last seen her. Catching us up on all the gossip from home. Schooling me on the latest clothing trends. I took this last one as a not so subtle hint that I've let my fashion sense drag a little since leaving Christian. Maybe while Teddy is away I'll have myself a little shopping spree to update my wardrobe before starting my new job.

Returning home, Teddy is fast asleep against Sawyer's shoulder—he's gotten a little too heavy for me to carry for long. For a moment I'm reminded of the times I saw Teddy sleeping against Christian's shoulder on any number of occasions. It never got old, watching my husband, the man who once told me he didn't have a heart and couldn't possibly be a father to a child, act utterly besotted by Teddy. The amount of patience Christian had with our son was incredible and I often wondered why he couldn't give me that same patience.

With Teddy tucked into his makeshift bed on the floor, Mia and I pour ourselves a couple of glasses of wine she insisted on picking up on the walk home and head out onto the patio, sitting in the chairs I brought out from the dining table. We sit in amenable silence for a few minutes, Mia staring out into the London night thoughtfully, me waiting for the barrage of questions that was probably about to hit me very soon. I try to formulate all my responses ahead of time, thinking I know Mia well enough to know what she might ask. I know she's as protective of her big brother as he is of her and hates to see him hurting, so I'm a little surprised she's been as pleasant to me as she has been. Not that I'd really expect anything less from her; she's always been more than kind to me.

"My brother is an idiot," Mia says quietly, still looking straight ahead.

I look at her in surprise. This isn't how I saw this going... "Christian or Elliot?" I ask in a lame attempt at humor.

She shoots me a look that tells me she isn't in a joking mood. "Christian," she says before sighing. "I love him very much and there isn't much in the world that I wouldn't do for him, but the fact that he let you walk out on him without a fight is fucking ridiculous."

"I wouldn't say it was without a fight, Mia," I reply wryly. There was a fight. A huge one. And it's not something I want to retell to Christian's baby sister. "But at the end of it, he let me go because he knew it was what I needed."

"And I don't suppose you'll tell me what he did to make you leave?"

My silence is enough of an answer for her.

She sighs again. "Well, whatever it is, he regrets it with every fiber of his being. I've never seen him like this, Ana. Or _heard_ him like this, since I haven't really seen him in months. But from what Mom and Kate say, he's worse than he was before he met you, and that's saying something." She hesitates, and I think it's the first time she's ever done so in my presence. "Do you think there's any chance you two might get back together?"

It's the same question I've been asking myself ten times a day since I made the decision to leave Seattle. Unfortunately, my answer hasn't changed. "I really don't know," I tell Mia. "As of right this very minute, I have to say no, but that answer changes pretty often, sometimes on an hourly basis."

"Do you still love him?"

"More than anything," I answer without thought. "I think that's what is making all of this so difficult to figure out. If I felt a little less in love with him, I might be able to make a choice one way or another, but..." I shrug, feeling tears stinging my eyes. Mia moves her chair a little closer to pull me into a one-armed hug. "I never thought our marriage would come to this, Mia, hanging on by a thread. My mom is on her fourth fucking marriage, and with every divorce she's gone through, I've watched another part of her break apart. Not to mention how difficult it was for me to deal with the divorces, the one from Ray in particular. I always swore I'd never put my children through that, that no matter what, my husband and I would work through our problems together. And here I am, repeating her mistakes."

"How's Teddy handling all this, anyway?" Mia asks curiously.

"I think he's starting to realize something is very wrong," I reply. "I mean, he was upset when we left home and very understandably misses his daddy. The other night he was chatting with Christian on Skype and afterwards he spent the rest of the night curled in a little ball crying. I've tried explaining the situation to him, but honestly, Mia, I don't even fully understand, so how am I supposed to tell him?"

"Maybe seeing Christian will do him a bit of good, then."

I smile sadly. "I know it will do him a _world_ of good to see Christian. And the rest of the family for that matter."

We're silent for a few minutes before Mia speaks again. "Listen, I didn't want to bring this up so soon, but I don't really see a more appropriate time." I raise my eyebrows questioningly. "Mom and Dad are throwing an end of summer party at their place. Family only. Mom even invited your parents..." I immediately know exactly where this is going. "Anyway, she wanted me to ask you if you'd consider flying in for a couple days for the party. I don't need an answer right now," she says quickly at the look of horror on my face. "Just take some time and think about it. Everyone misses you so much. But I understand if you can't face Christian long enough to do this. We'd love to have you there, though."

"I'll think about it," I mutter neutrally. After a few more minutes of silence, I turn to look at Mia, trying to smile. "So, how's Ethan?"


	3. Chapter 3

The morning comes that I have to say goodbye to my son, and even though I know it's only temporary, I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of loneliness wash over me. Teddy has been all I have to keep myself going these last six months, my last real tie to Christian, and now I'm watching him board a plane with Mia and Sawyer, knowing I won't see him again for at least a month, depending on whether I take up Grace's invitation to her little family reunion at the end of the summer.

I give one last wave to my son and Mia before I turn around and leave the airport, trying to control my emotions. Without a doubt, I will miss my baby boy. We haven't been separated for more than two weeks in all the time he's been alive, but even then it was easier. I know that if I call to speak with him I'll risk having to speak with Christian. Chatting with Teddy over Skype will almost guarantee being forced to see my husband.

I've got one month. One month to decide about the end of summer party in Bellevue. One month to decide whether I can be in Christian's presence without either breaking down or beating the shit out of him. One month to decide how much longer I'm going to put Teddy and myself through the separation from our family. One month to decide if I can live with the man who broke my heart into a million pieces and betrayed me. For the moment, though, I have to get through today without my son. I know this is the best thing for him right now, seeing his father. I only hope it won't make things worse in the long run, for any of us.

The apartment is dark and quiet when I get home, which only adds to my feeling of loneliness and abandonment. It makes me wonder if this was how Christian felt a week after I found out the truth when he came home from work to find his family and their possessions gone. I hadn't wanted to leave like that without a word, but I just couldn't face another fight, so like the coward I am, I left him a letter on top of his pillow. I can imagine him sitting on the edge of our bed, reading the words I left for him to find. I imagine he cried when he understood the implications of the letter. I hate seeing him cry, I hate being the one to make him cry. It seems fitting, though; he spent almost six years making me cry, so I was only returning the favor. Cold. Heartless. Bitter. Resentful. Angry. Those are the feelings Christian understands above all others, so that is what I left him.

Sighing heavily, I sit on the sofa and switch on the laptop. I received some information from my new job that they've asked me to read in order to bring myself up to speed with some of their clients. There will be a meeting Monday morning with myself, my predecessor, and the senior editor I'll be reporting to directly and I'm looking forward to this more than anything—god knows I need the distraction with Teddy gone...

As I'm scrolling through my email inbox for the one I'm looking for, a new message arrives and I automatically scroll back to the very top of the list. My heart flips over at the sight of sender's name: Christian Grey.

I open the message, uncertain whether I can handle this right now, and scan the email warily.

* * *

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** Teddy's visit

 **To:** Anastasia Grey

Dear Anastasia,

Mia just phoned to let me know she and Teddy are taking off from London. I just wanted to say thank you for allowing Teddy to stay with me for the next few weeks; you've no idea what it means to me. I have missed him more than I ever thought would be possible and the video chats just aren't cutting it at the moment.

Mia also says she invited you to my parents' end of the summer party. I sincerely hope you will consider joining us. Among other things, you and I have a lot to talk about. It's been six months, Ana; we need to decide where things lie between us, one way or another. I understand if you're not ready to talk to me yet and you are absolutely right to feel that way, but we can't keep going on like we have been. I want the chance to fight for you, to fight for _us_ , and I can't do that when you're on a different continent. Up until now, I think I've been very patient with this... arrangement. And if you decide you want to live your life separately from mine, I will give you whatever you want.

I truly hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You and our son are my entire life, Anastasia, and I miss you both so very much. My life is empty without you and I want you home again.

I know I can't push you into making a decision—I lost that right when I hurt you—but please, come back home for a few days, see our family, _talk to me_. Please don't give up on me yet.

I love you more than you can ever comprehend, Ana. In time, I hope I can prove this to you.

Yours always,

Christian

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I can't quite work out if I'm angrier than I am sad or vice versa after the fifth time I read his words. In the six months that I've been away from him, this is only the second time he's attempted contact with me directly. I know what he's trying to do: he's trying to guilt me into a decision, demonstrate the power he holds over me. I note he didn't actually address the reasons I left him, which tells me he either doesn't think this is enough to end us or that my memory is so horrible that I've forgotten what he's put me through.

"Fuck you, Christian," I mutter to the computer screen, deleting the email without even considering responding. As I find the email I was looking for originally, I realize Christian was right about one thing: six months has been more than enough time to decide what I'm going to do next. It's time to put up or shut up.

* * *

I lean against the black SUV, my eyes trained on the plane that's just landed, and start to feel nervous and impatient for the door to open. I've been checking my phone every five minutes, hoping Ana might reply to the email I sent her this morning after the call from Mia, but no such luck. Honestly, I didn't really expect an immediate response, despite all my hopes to the contrary. Thus far, she's refused all my attempts to speak with her, so why would now be any different.

My only chance to get her back lies with her decision of whether she will be attending my parents' party in a month's time. I'm desperate to see her, I've been in constant pain since the night she left me, and I need her. I suppose it would be understandable if she decides our marriage can no longer go on after what I did to her, but I refuse to let her go without one last fight.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door to the plane opens and the stairs descend. It's another minute or so before I finally see Mia standing in the doorway, but my eyes drift down to the little boy standing directly in front of her. My son; my beautiful, perfect, sweet, baby boy. He's grown so much in six months, more than I realized during our Skype chats. His blue eyes, exactly like his mother's, scan the area eagerly until they find me, and when they do, his little face lights up in happiness and joy that I know my expression is returning.

"Daddy!" He bolts down the stairs as I walk quickly towards him, unable to stop the tears pouring from my eyes. When I finally reach him, I snatch him off his feet, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. He returns the embrace with his little arms around my neck, holding on for dear life and I bury my face in his hair, memorizing how he feels and smells in case the worst that could happen comes true and this visit becomes how things will be for the rest of our lives. I'm crying. Teddy is crying. Neither of us wants to release the other. God, how I've missed him...

When I finally pull away from him enough to look him in the face, I smile, matching the wide smile on his face. "I missed you, baby boy," I murmur, pressing my lips against his forehead. "I love you."

"Love you, Daddy," he tells me in his sweet voice, resting his head against my shoulder.

Once I've composed myself enough, I look around to find Mia also in tears. I give her a shaky smile that she returns and hold out an arm to embrace her as well while Sawyer and Taylor quickly load her and Teddy's luggage in the back of the car. Unfortunately this means I have to release my hold on Teddy in order to buckle him into his booster seat. As we drive, my eyes are trained solely on my boy while he tells me about his plane ride with Auntie Mia. Auntie Mia in the meantime is busy tapping away on her cell phone. She seems to sense my gaze and looks up at me, raising a questioning eyebrow and flushing a little.

"I promised Ana I'd let her know when we landed," she tells me rather sheepishly.

I suck in a breath, but nod my acknowledgement. Of course she did. Ana deserves to know her son has arrived safely in Seattle. I cannot fault her for that. My annoyance rises, however, when a mere two minutes after Mia texted Ana there is a response. Well, it seems my wife has no problem responding to everyone else... I want to know what Ana's text says, but I will not start this discussion in front of my son.

When we arrive home, which for the first time in six months actually _feels_ like home, Teddy runs ahead of us and up the stairs to his bedroom, probably to find the toys he left behind, and I gesture for Mia to follow me into the kitchen. "Well?" I say without preamble.

My sister raises an eyebrow. "Well what?"

I close my eyes, trying not to lose my patience. "How is she, Mia?"

Sighing, Mia sits down at the bar as I pour us a couple glasses of wine. "Only slightly better than you," she tells me bluntly. "But I think that was all a front." I nod, feeling relieved that I'm not the only one suffering. Then, of course, I feel guilty that my wife is suffering and I'm the one who caused it. "Look, I don't know what you did, because she flat out refused to tell me. I have my own theories, though, and if I'm right you are the stupidest son of a bitch on this fucking planet, Christian."

I look at my sister in surprise. She's never taken quite this tone with me before. "Mia..." I say quietly with no idea what I'm supposed to say to her. I haven't told any of my family what happened with me and Ana. They know there was a fight and that she left suddenly. They've probably all come to the same conclusions as Mia, but none of them has confronted me about it. Well, Kate has tried, but I shut her down pretty quickly. The truth is I am positively terrified to confirm their suspicions. I couldn't handle it if I lost the rest of my family as well.

 _You'd deserve it... You've skated along on their love practically your entire life, trying to deserve everything they gave you. You tried to be a good son, a good brother, a good husband, a good father. But at the end of the day, you're not a good person, are you? You're a miserable bag of bones who hurts anyone who gets close to you. And you can't change._

"Look," Mia says with a sigh, finishing off her glass of wine. I look up at her slowly, trying to push away my dark thoughts. "I'll leave you to spend time with your son. Don't forget dinner tonight with Mom and Dad."

"I won't," I promise her hoarsely. "Thank you for flying him home."

Mia gives me a tiny smile as she walks around the bar to kiss my cheek. "Stop beating yourself up for a change, Christian. Enjoy the time you have with Teddy. He's what's important right now, okay?" I nod my agreement. No matter the state of my relationship with my wife, I will not let my son suffer. This is our time. I need to make the most of it. Mia is leaving the kitchen, but turns around for one last comment. "If it's any consolation, she misses you. She didn't say as much, of course, but I know the signs."

My eyes close again, this time as my heart breaks even further. Ana is alone in London, missing me, missing our son. When I open my eyes again, Mia is gone and once I compose myself enough, I make my way upstairs to find my son.

* * *

On Teddy's third night in Seattle, I tuck him into bed, read him a story, and kiss him goodnight, as had been the ritual since the day he was born. I head into my study with the intention of doing a little bit of work while he sleeps—I've taken the month off to make the most of this visit. My phone vibrates, startling me out of reading the latest news from GEH from Ros, and I automatically reach out blindly to accept the call.

"Grey," I snap, not knowing who could be calling at this hour.

The person on the other end is silent for several seconds before I hear them suck in shaky breath. "Christian?"

My heart has stopped again and I very nearly drop the phone in shock at hearing her voice. "Ana," I practically whimper in response.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi."

We're silent for far too long. What am I supposed to say to her? All my apologies and begging and promises have left my brain, and I find that all I want right now is to hear her voice. She clears her throat. "I suppose it's too late to speak to Teddy..."

"I just tucked him in," I say quickly, refusing to let silence reign anymore. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," she replies just as quickly. "I meant to call earlier, but I sort of lost track of time."

"Oh."

She sighs. "How is he? Is he having a good time?"

"Yes, I think so," I reply, scrambling for conversation points. "We've gone to the zoo, spent some time with my parents and Kate and Elliot and Ava... We're heading out onto the boat this weekend."

"That sounds nice," she replies distractedly, wistfully. Of course all these things we had once done as a family. Will we ever have that time back?

I feel her slipping away, even over the telephone, but before she goes, I have to know... "How are you, Anastasia?"

She lets out a heavy breath of what sounds like frustration. "How do you think I am, Christian?" she asks sharply. I press my lips together to hold back the retort of _I have fucking idea; I haven't seen you for six fucking months_ as I know it will not help matters in the slightest. "Look," she goes on, her tone much less hostile, "I just called to speak to Teddy. It's very late here and I have an early meeting. When would be a good time to call back?"

Of course my first instinct is to demand to know what meeting she has in the morning, but I hold my tongue for a change. "Anytime before his bedtime is good, Anastasia," I tell her. "I'll make absolutely certain he's nearby for whenever you get the chance to call."

"Good," she replies, feigning a cheerful tone. "Thank you, Christian. I appreciate it."

 _Anything for you, baby..._ "Before you go," I say, desperate to keep her on the line, "I was wondering if you'd thought anymore about coming to my parents' party."

"I'll have to get back to you on that," she tells me. "It depends on whether I can get the time off from work."

"Oh," I respond dumbly, "right, of course."

I know exactly what's going on in her mind right now: Does he know I've got a new job and with whom? Well, the answer is no on both counts. I have assigned a security detail for her and Teddy, but they report directly to Taylor and I only get news when it's absolutely necessary. This was Taylor's insistence. I nearly fired the fucker when he told me this was how things would be going. But considering what I've done and the fact that I ordered Taylor to lie to my wife just as I had been, I didn't see any choice in making this allowance. Taylor has always been protective of Anastasia, since the very beginning, and this was his way of protecting her from further hurt. From me.

"Right," she says suspiciously. "Well, I should go. Give Teddy my love."

"I will," I promise her. I want to tell her that I love her, that I miss her, but the words catch in my throat, and by the time they find their way out, the line goes quiet and I know she's gone. I drop my phone back to the desk and stare unseeingly at my computer screen, no longer interested in work. Instead, I am catapulted to a night six months ago, the night when everything came crashing down, when my life ended. The guilt comes back full force and I feel myself descending into my own personal hell as I remember in startling detail the look of utter devastation and betrayal on my wife's face, knowing I was the one to cause that.

 _I really am a fucking monster..._


	4. Chapter 4

_It's nearly midnight when I finally get home from the office. Between three big deals currently under negotiation, a threat of a week-long business trip looming in the not-so distant future, and my inability to sleep more than three hours a night, I am completely fucking exhausted. And it doesn't help matters that Ana and I still aren't speaking after our most recent argument about her returning to work. She keeps insisting that she wants another child, but in the same breath, she wants to return full time to Grey Publishing—can't have both, sweetheart, pick one or the other. Of course I want to give her everything she wants and more, and of course I want to make her the happiest woman in the world, but there are times when she can be so unreasonable. She tells me how overbearing I'm being when I insist on her taking security wherever she goes, when I just want her to be safe. She tells me she wants us to do more things together, as a family, and that I work too much. I tell her I work to ensure she and our son will never have to worry about anything._

 _Half the time, I don't have a fucking clue what we're even arguing about. All I know is that I've slowly begun to lose control over my home life over the last few months and I need it back, more than anything, or everything will fall apart around me. Little by little, I'm starting to regain some of it, and honestly, I can't remember being happier._

 _The high that comes along with the control starts to dissipate whenever I walk in my front door, though; that's when the guilt starts to set in. I try to push it aside, and sometimes, I'm successful, especially when Ana is still pissy with me. It's the nights when I come home after one of our fights and she's waiting up for me to apologize in some way that always tends to end up with us fucking each other into oblivion that really leave me feeling like an asshole. I love those nights, but when she's falling asleep against my shoulder, whispering to me how much she loves me, I feel like the biggest fucking prick in the world for what I'm doing to her. On the mornings following those nights, I swear to myself I'm going to stop what I'm doing and treat my wife the way she deserves to be treated. But something always happens—she finds something else to bitch about and I find myself needing to let off some tension and frustration and hurt._

 _One part of me, my conscience maybe, if I actually have one, keeps telling me I'm looking for reasons to continue on the way I have been. The rest of me thinks I've spent way too much fucking time locked up in a small room with John Flynn over the years._

 _I sigh heavily as I remove my jacket and loosen my tie, having no idea which direction this evening will go. Given the time, Ana is probably already asleep and I'll be able to crawl into bed beside her, curl myself around her, and get a decent night's sleep. If she's forgiven me for whichever transgression I've committed most recently, she'll let me; if she hasn't, she'll shake me off and try to get away from me, all without waking up._

 _As I walk past my study to the bedroom, I notice the door is slightly ajar and there seems to be light coming from inside. My brow furrows as I slowly push open the door, wondering if I'd forgotten to switch off the computer. Automatically, I switch on the light and nearly jump out of my skin at the sight that meets me._

" _Christ, Ana," I gasp. "You scared the hell out of me." It takes me a couple moments to realize her eyes are trained on me with a look I don't think I've ever seen before from her: cold fury. She hasn't blinked, hasn't smiled, hasn't spoken. I'm unnerved. "What are you doing in here?"_

 _I cross the room slowly when she doesn't reply and stop in front of my desk._

" _Something you want to tell me, Christian?" she asks evenly._

 _I blink. "Like what?" I ask, genuinely confused. What the hell have I done now?_

 _In slow motion, I watch as Ana turns the computer monitor towards me and I feel all the breath leave my body as I realize what I'm looking at: It's a freeze frame shot of the security cameras in the apartment at Escala. I see myself standing in the great room wearing a pair of jeans, nothing else, with a woman in my arms. A woman that is not my wife. A woman I had hoped my wife would never know existed. I can't quite pinpoint which of our several encounters this one might be, but the pair of us is locked in a heated kiss, one of my hands in her long brown hair while the other is shoved down the front of her panties._

Fuck.

 _I look up at Ana at a loss for words. "Ana..." I say weakly._

 _She silences me with a glare of what seems to be pure hatred and disgust. "Don't," she growled. "And don't you fucking dare try to tell me this isn't what it looks like, because I've seen the rest of this video, Christian, and it is_ exactly _what it looks like."_

 _I can't think. I have no idea how to respond or handle this. I hadn't ever believed she would find out. Still staring at the computer screen in absolute terror, I try to get my brain to connect with my mouth in order to find a way to fix this. I don't even realize I've spoken until several moments after I ask the question, "Where did you get this video?"_

 _Ana is staring at me in incredulous anger. "That's your response to this?" she demands. "Who is she, Christian? Is she a sub?"_

 _I can't breathe. I feel my entire world crashing down around me. "No," I choke out._

 _I watch as realization dawns on my wife's beautiful face. "No?" she repeats in a whisper. "Who, then?"_

 _Sighing I run my hands across my face then fist them in my hair. This wasn't supposed to happen... "Ana, please, just listen to me."_

" _I am listening, Christian," she replies, blinking rapidly as she fights tears. All I want to do right now is take her in my arms, beg her forgiveness and make this right again. But I'm frozen on the spot. "Tell me. Who is she?"_

 _I sigh shakily. "I met her at the gym," I tell her quietly, unable to look her in the eyes. "She was one of Claude's clients and we did a bit of training together."_

" _Yeah, I bet you did," Ana mutters sarcastically. I try to glare at her, warning her about her smart mouth, but I can't quite make it work. Her tone when she continues speaking is bleak. "How long?"_

 _My eyes close of their own accord, because I know how she's going to react to this. "Five months."_

 _She let out a gasping sob, but only one, after which she composed herself. "Why?" she whispered to me in a begging tone, her blue eyes dull and too big for her face._

 _I don't have a good answer for this. Is there a good answer? Doubtful. I say the first thing that comes to my mind, hoping it will be enough to get us on the path back to where we once were. "I needed control," I say. "Nothing has been in my control lately and I needed that back. Ana, I never meant to hurt you. I love you more than anything, and—"_

" _If she's not a sub," Ana interrupts, "what is she? Can't have been a one-night stand on a whim if it's been going on for five fucking months. Are you giving her more, Christian? Maybe she was some innocent, wide-eyed virgin who fell for your charms? Are you in love with her?"_

 _This should be an easy answer—I should tell her the only person I'm in love with, the only person I have ever and will ever love is her—but I can't lie to her. I'm not saying I'm actually in love with this other woman, but I honestly don't know what I feel right now. Everything is so confused and warped, and this all has to be just one big fucking nightmare._

" _Dammit, Christian!"_

 _Apparently my silence is enough for her. The fact that I didn't immediately tell her that woman doesn't mean a goddamn thing to me is probably the last nail in the coffin that is our marriage. I have to say something, anything, because if I don't, I will lose her._

 _She stands suddenly, fisting her hands in her hair as she screams words at me, words I can't hear. All I know is that my wife is absolutely hysterical right now. My muscles are regaining feeling as my brain registers this and I start to move forward until my left hand is against her cheek. She slaps it away and I hear her next words clearly, "Don't you fucking touch me, Christian. Never again. I'm done. I'm done with you; I'm done with all the hurt... I'm just fucking done."_

 _My heart is ripping apart, but of course, I know it's my own doing._

" _I have given you chance after fucking chance, and every time I think you've finally got the picture, you do something to prove you haven't changed and that you never will change."_

" _Ana, no," I beg in a whisper, tears streaming down my face. "Baby, I can fix this. Please let me."_

" _No, Christian." Her voice is resigned. "No more please let me fix this. We both have to realize that this can't be fixed." She swallows a lump in her throat, her eyes drifting around the room as though she's searching for strength to get through this. "I have loved you with everything I have and all I get in return is more pain. I will not let my son grow up like this, with his mother reduced to a shell of misery and his father making excuses and breaking promises at every fucking turn."_

" _What promises have I broken?" I hear myself shout. Anger. Good. Much better than the sadness and despair._

 _She actually laughs at me, but it's not the laugh that tends to make me hard within seconds. It's cold and mocking. "You have got to be kidding," she declares. "How about the most obvious one? The one about staying faithful to your wife?"_

 _Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey. But anger is becoming my primary emotion and I can't control what's coming out of my mouth next: "Maybe if my wife took better care of her husband's needs." Immediately I am horrified by my own words and am mentally grasping for them to pull them from where they hang in the thick air between us._

 _I should have seen it coming a mile away. But I don't even react as I see her hand rising as though in slow motion, swing back, and slap me in the face. My brain automatically betrays me by recalling the last time a woman slapped me, back when I was a fifteen-year-old horny little bastard. The slap turns me on, but I'm somehow able to control that physical response to stare at Ana's furious face._

" _How fucking dare you," she growls. "Never have I turned you down, Christian. Since the very beginning, I've let you do things to me that I never thought I would ever let happen." She swallows, looking as though she might be sick, and my irrational, reflexive behavior abates, turning into concern for her. But she composes herself almost effortlessly and I know she's fighting not to seem weak in front of me. "I always told you I could never be enough for you, Christian. And every time I said something like that, you told me I was wrong, that I was everything you could ever possibly want and more. I tried to let myself believe you, but I always had that concern in the back of my mind, and here you are, confirming everything I always feared most." She blinks her eyes rapidly, wrapping her arms around herself. "So thank you, Christian, for finally being honest with me. It will make all of this so much easier for both of us."_

 _I want to ask what this is, but I can't speak, I can't move, and I can only watch as she looks at me again, her eyes dull and lifeless, then leaves me standing alone in my study with a stinging cheek and a new sense of self-hatred._

* * *

On Monday morning, I walk as sedately as possible into the small café where I'll be meeting my predecessor and immediate boss. Despite Teddy leaving, my weekend was wonderful. I actually forced myself to go out shopping for a new wardrobe, had my hair done and had a manicure and pedicure. As I walked around London, I even found a possible new apartment. It's not far from the current one, but from what I could see, much nicer. I have an appointment later this afternoon to check it out and I'm beyond excited.

Of course I would never be able to do any of this without the deposits Christian insists on making to my bank account. I had made a vow to myself that I wouldn't dip into those funds unless it was absolutely necessary, but my son deserves more than what I've given him over the last six months. He needs room to play and to be himself. And if I'm honest, I feel like being a little selfish for a change. I've never been interested in Christian's wealth, even from the very beginning, even when he told me exactly how much he makes in an hour, and that's still true. But I can justify this by telling myself Teddy needs as much as a happy childhood as I can possibly give him, especially if worse comes to worse and Christian and I never reconcile.

Christian. Talking to him last night was a bittersweet end to my day. It had taken me a few glasses of wine, procrastination in the form of cleaning, bathing, and whatever else I could possibly come up with in order to avoid placing the call, and in the end it was only the reminder that I'm calling to speak with my son, not his father, and I could put up with talking to him for long enough to get Teddy on the phone.

I have to admit, though, it was incredible hearing his voice, hearing him talking directly to me, answering my questions... I tried my very best to keep us on track, talking about our son, and I wished I didn't have to be so cold to him, but what other choice did I have? What other choice has he given me?

I could hear the pain in his voice—either that or I was just hearing my own pain, maybe hearing what I wanted to hear. I know I'm putting him through hell right now as I'm putting myself through hell, but again, what other choice did I have but to leave after what he did? To this day I still don't know all the details of his affair; I'm not sure I want to know. I saw enough on that fucking video to give me a lifetime of nightmares. I don't know who she was, I don't know if he still sees her, I don't know if she was a sub or something else. The worse part about it is I've wondered hundreds of times over the last six months whether it would be better or worse if the other woman was a sub. I might be able to come to terms with it if that were the case. It certainly wouldn't change the fact that he betrayed me, betrayed my trust, but at least then I would know there wasn't any emotional attachment, at least not on Christian's part.

Maybe I'm better off not knowing. Maybe I'm better off living here in London, preparing to start my new job, thinking about moving into a much nicer place, raising my son. I certainly wouldn't ever dream about keeping Christian out of Teddy's life. Teddy adores his father more than anything. Those two are practically best friends. It would absolutely crush Teddy to not see his father as often as possible; I've already seen the effects of this. I can only imagine how it's going to be when he returns here to London next month; I have a feeling I'm going to have a depressed little boy on my hands.

 _We can get past this_ , I try to convince myself. It's much more difficult to believe this than it seems and when I reach the restaurant, I have to take several minutes to improve my expression for my meeting. I'm about half an hour early, but it's fine; what else do I have to do for the next couple weeks but wait? I give the hostess my name and tell her I'm meeting people, but not for a little while longer, so she directs me towards the bar where I order a glass of water and commence waiting.

I'm starting to get very excited to start my new job. I haven't really worked since a couple months before Teddy was born and I missed it. As promised, Christian signed over Grey Publishing, formally Seattle Independent Publishing, to me on our first wedding anniversary. For a while I worked from home as I learned how to run a business. It allowed me to care for my infant son and gave me an outlet from being solely the wife of CEO Christian Grey and spending my days in our enormous house, essentially alone. True, I had Gail and Sawyer and Ryan on occasion, but it didn't make me any less lonely. When Teddy got a little older, it gave me a little more freedom to work a few hours actually in the office. After Teddy's third birthday, I slowly increased my hours at the office until I was working full days. This went on for six months and I was beyond happy. Initially I'd been reluctant to take on the role as CEO of a company, but Christian's tutelage instilled a confidence in me that I didn't know existed before then.

But then I noticed him becoming a little more critical of my work and my hours until it all came to a head one night in February. I don't remember what sparked the fight; all I remember is the two of us standing across the bedroom from one another and shouting things at the top of our lungs. He threw out something about me not spending enough time with our son and how I was the one who wanted a family and how did I expect to care for a newborn if I'm in the office nine hours a day. Of course my reaction was along the lines of how he'd been telling me for two years that we weren't ready for another child and how he was the one who wanted me to run Grey Publishing in the first place. I didn't know it then, but that night was when things began to deteriorate between us. To avoid any further arguments, I gave in and cut back on my hours, and I was resentful towards my husband for that. He felt it, but made no move to apologize to me for forcing me into doing it. If anything, he was smug with the knowledge that I did what he wanted, that I _obeyed_ him.

It took me leaving to realize all the subtle changes he seemed to make for me. He took away my independence, the confidence that he built up in me, my eagerness in life. My leaving him was about so much more than an affair and I don't think he has any clue.

 _And he won't, if you don't tell him_ , my subconscious tells me curtly.

"Ah, Anastasia!"

I look up from my glass of water in surprise. It's still about fifteen minutes before my meeting, but it seems my new boss has arrived early as well. Thomas Canton is a few years older than me, I'd guess the same age as Christian, and I liked him for the onset. From our first meeting he was kind and genuinely interested in learning about my credentials and why I was interested in working at the publishing house. I tried to downplay my role at Grey Publishing, even going by Steele when I applied for the job rather than Grey, but it seemed my new boss has the same powers of information digging as my husband. After my interview he pulled me aside to let me know he knew who I was and I got the job nevertheless. For days after I worried that I got the job because of my husband, but from the research I've done on Thomas and the publishing house, he's not exactly a fan of Christian's. I suspect a bad business deal, but I probably don't actually want to know.

Thomas is tall and slender, though clearly he works out. He wears his brown hair short and neatly combed, and his brown eyes are warm. When he it came down to it, he wasn't Christian, but I'm finding I don't mind that too much.

My subconscious raises an eyebrow at me, silently asking why I'm comparing this complete stranger to my husband. I shake myself from the thoughts just in time for Thomas to reach me, extending a hand for me to shake. "Mr. Canton," I say, taking his hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Thomas, please, Anastasia," he replies. "And it's good to see you as well."

"Ana, please, Thomas," I say, grinning. He chuckles and gestures towards the main part of the restaurant where he's got a table waiting for us.

For a few minutes, we chat idly while we wait for the third member of our lunch trio. I'm slightly surprised at how easy it is to talk to him; I can't remember the last time I had a boss that was pleasant to be around. But then I remember thinking Jack Hyde seemed nice, which just proves my judgment isn't always to be trusted...

As we chat, I learn he went to school at Cambridge and has a degree in literature. His father opened the publishing house back in the 70s and it has been family run since then. This is a little surprising, since I would have expected someone with that history with the company to be a little higher up in the hierarchy, but it seems Thomas is perfectly happy and comfortable where he is and leaves the running of the company to his younger sister Tracy. In turn, he asks me a little more about my college years, what made me want to get into this line of work. We touch a little on Grey Publishing, but Thomas seems to pick up on the fact that I'm not entirely comfortable discussing anything related to Christian Grey.

When my predecessor, Alvin Hobbes, finally arrives, we order lunch and get down to business. Alvin is in his mid-sixties and has a crotchety old grandpa persona about him. He's nice enough, though, and exchanges banter with Thomas, so it's clear to me he's just a big teddy bear when it comes down to it—actually, he reminds me a lot of Ray. Though he's not quite ready to retire from his career, his wife has fallen ill and needs someone to care for her at all hours of the day.

He hands me a stack of manuscripts that recently landed on his desk, ones he won't be able to get to before his last day with the company, and gives me a rundown on some of the authors he works with most often. Alvin talks quickly, hardly pausing to give me the chance to ask questions, and I get the feeling that if I did have questions to ask and I interrupted him, he'd be highly disapproving. Every so often I glance across the table at Thomas, who is watching us with amusement. Clearly he is more than used to Alvin's gruff exterior, and he actually seems a little impressed that I'm able to keep up with him.

In less than an hour, we have finished our lunches, and Alvin is preparing to return to the office. Thomas says he'll meet him back there and absolutely refuses to take Alvin's money to pay for lunch. Alvin ends up stalking away, grumbling curses under his breath.

"Is he always like that?" I ask, smiling.

"Since the day I met him," Thomas confirms with a roll of his eyes. "At first I thought he might resent me coming in as his boss—he's the last one at the company who actually helped my father open the place—but turns out he was happy to get out of the promotion my father was threatening him with..."

I'm still smiling. I can't remember the last time I smiled this much with someone who wasn't family. Another hour goes by before either of us knows about it. I tell him about Teddy, he tells me about his nephew who is about the same age. He tells me about some of the places I could take my son on the weekend to keep him occupied and even offers to go along with us to the London Zoo, assuring me before I can even protest that it'd help him out a great deal as his sister is going to some conference in Ireland at the beginning of September. I tell him I'll think about it and he beams at me as though it's a done deal.

Of course, this brings up another point I wanted to discuss with him today. "My son is spending the rest of the summer with his father in Seattle," I begin, looking into my water glass and wondering why I feel guilty all of a sudden. "And a few days before he's scheduled to return here, my mother and father-in-law are planning some sort of little family reunion."

"Ah," Thomas says in realization. "And you would be gone for how long?"

I blush. "A few days at most," I reply. "I realize I haven't even started yet and I'm already asking for time off, but—"

"No buts," he tells me firmly. "Family is most important. Email me the dates you'll be gone and I'll make arrangements."

I smile in relief. "Thank you so much," I tell him empathetically. "It won't become a pattern, I swear."

"No worries, Ana," he says, waving me off. With a sigh, he glances at his watch. "Well, unfortunately I have to get back to the office. An unsupervised Alvin never results in anything good."

We stand, he refuses my offer to pay my share of the bill, and we say our goodbyes. I assure him I will call him if there are any problems with the manuscripts Alvin has passed on me and we leave the restaurant with him reminding me of my first day and to email him the dates I'll be in Seattle.

As we go our separate ways, I head in the direction of the new apartment and think over the last couple hours. It's a little unnerving how comfortable I felt with a relative stranger and I can't quite remember the last time that happened. Something in the back of my mind tells me I haven't felt that since I met Christian, and now I'm really unnerved.

My brain is telling me I'm over-thinking, that Thomas is my boss and, friendly as he is, it won't be going any farther than that. I try to believe my brain's words.

The last thing I need right now is another man in my life.


	5. Chapter 5

The next couple weeks go by surprisingly fast and before I know it, I'm finishing my first week at Canton Publishing. So far I absolutely love it. Unlike when I started at SIP with Jack Hyde as my boss, I feel like a useful member of the team, like they value my opinion, and truly enjoy my company. Actually, this is the first time I've felt this way anywhere in the last few years; that realization hits suddenly and I pause halfway through a word I'm writing. Shaking myself, I return to my work and think about the changes I've made to my life since Teddy went to spend time with Christian.

I took the apartment I looked at. It only took me half a day to pack up all our belongings and move it into the new place. I'm happy with it; by my pre-Christian Grey standards, the place is huge. It's open and bright, all the appliances work the way they should; there are three bedrooms—though I'm not entirely sure why this was a selling point for me, since it's just me and Teddy—and a large patio. And there is little doubt that the place wouldn't get Christian Grey's immediate seal of approval should he ever visit; not only does the building employ its own security but all residents are required to enter a pin number to get into the underground garage as well as access the elevators and the different floors of the building. For the first week, I kept getting the numbers mixed up and it generally took me half an hour to get from outside the building to my apartment.

The most important fact about it is I think Teddy is going to absolutely love this place. He's got room to run around to his little heart's content, unlike the other apartment. We're high enough in the building that we've got a beautiful view of London. More than once I've found myself comparing it to Escala, which immediately reminds me why I'm here in the first place and not in Seattle with my husband and son.

I've spoken to Teddy several times since that first phone call with Christian. Every time Teddy rather than his father has answered the phone, I felt both relieved and disappointed—relieved because putting us through yet another awkward, tense conversation could only make things worse; disappointed because despite everything, I really do miss my husband. Teddy seems to be having a good time, at least. From what I've been able to gather, Christian seems to have taken several days off work to spend time with his son. I'm happy to hear this; one of the things I dreaded about Teddy going to Seattle for the rest of the summer was him being left alone with Gail or Christian's parents or another family member while Christian kept on working.

Last night when I called to talk to Teddy, I asked him to hand the phone to Christian to confirm I would be attending the end of summer/family reunion get together at his parents' house. He seemed shocked that I requested to speak with him at all—truth was so was I. I suppose I could have called Grace directly, or even Kate, but I figured that at some point I'd have to speak with my husband again, so I might as well be the mature one and tell him myself. Immediately he offered me use of the GEH jet and I immediately declined, telling him I was perfectly happy flying commercially. He'd sighed heavily and I could imagine him rubbing his temples as he tried not to lose his temper with me.

"Ana, please," he'd said quietly, pleadingly. "Let me do this for you. I need to know you're safe."

I'd rolled my eyes, wanting desperately to argue, but decided to give him this slight concession. "Fine, I'll take the jet," I'd said with a weary sigh.

He'd sighed in relief that we'd avoided a fight. "Thank you," he'd whispered. When he'd spoken next, there was a slight reluctant edge to his tone. "And please, Ana, don't roll your eyes at me."

I'd almost laughed, but settled for a sad smile to myself.

We'd said goodbye and that was the end of it. I then proceeded to spend what little remained of my evening with a bottle of wine and woke up this morning feeling sad and slightly hung over.

"Ana?"

I turn away from my work to glance into Thomas' office questioningly. "Yes?"

"Why don't you go ahead and wrap it up for the evening?" he suggested with a smile. "I've still got a fair bit to do here, so I'll be staying late, but there's no reason for you to do the same."

I return the smile. "I appreciate the offer," I say sincerely, "but if you're staying, I will as well. No point for you to stay here alone."

He raises an eyebrow at me, smiling, and for what probably has to be the hundredth time since I met him, I melt a little at the sight. He's no Christian Grey, but Thomas Canton has a charm all his own and I'm liking it more and more the longer I work with him. "Well, if you insist," he conceded. "How about I order some Chinese and you can help me get through these manuscripts?"

Within an hour, Thomas and I are sitting cross-legged on the floor of his office surrounded by Chinese takeout boxes and stacks of manuscripts with post-it notes stuck to nearly every page. As we eat, we chat about non-work things. We chat about places we've been, experiences we've had, and we realize we know some of the same people, mostly those I never would have met if it hadn't been for Christian—notable names in the publishing world and the like. Several of them, we agree, are pompous assholes who wouldn't know a good book if it bit them on the nose. For the first time since Mia and Teddy left I find myself laughing with abandon as I listen to some of Thomas's stories.

I forget we're supposed to be working by the time Thomas passes me a fortune cookie before taking his own. We open them almost in unison and I remove the little slip of paper inside mine, reading it, then rereading it several times to make sure I'm actually seeing what I think I'm seeing: _If you feel you are right, stand firmly by your convictions._

Seriously?

I look up when I hear Thomas chuckle, raising my eyebrow questioningly. He clears his throat and adopts a pompous tone. " _A new wardrobe brings great joy and change to your life_ ," he reads before shaking his head and popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. "Can't say I've ever been one to enjoy buying new clothes..."

I laugh, balling up my fortune and tossing it aside and eating my cookie. Eventually we do get around to some actual work and before either of us knows it, it's nearly nine o'clock. Thomas offers me a ride home, apologizing for keeping me late as I gather my things. "Thomas, really, it's fine," I insist. "It's not like I've got anyone to be home for."

He gives me a small smile, but doesn't comment and we leave the building, heading for his car. The ride to my new apartment is enjoyable enough and when we arrive outside the building, we're both reluctant for me to get out of the car. "Well," Thomas says, turning to me with a smile, "thank you for staying late with me and keeping me company. I must say you're a much better conversationalist than Alvin." I laugh; his smile widens. "Nicer to look at, too."

My amusement begins to fade. As nice as it is to hear somebody say something like that, I can't let Thomas get the wrong idea. Luckily, he figures this out before I can think of anything to say. "I don't mean anything by that, Ana," he says gently. "Besides, when you've spent as long as I have staring into that old craggy face, you'd be relieved to have a change of scenery, too."

I smile again. "Right," I say, grabbing my purse. "Well, thank you for dinner and the ride home. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Ana," Thomas says softly as I exit the car.

 _Fuck!_

As I get into the elevator to get to my apartment, I'm cursing myself and I'm not entirely certain why. Part of me is angry about letting my relationship with Thomas even begin to edge towards something slightly less professional, while the other part couldn't be happier and is currently opening several bottles of champagne in celebration. I try to reason with myself that Thomas was being nice, that he was trying to make me feel more comfortable, and so what if we get along so well and can laugh with each other while we work. It doesn't mean anything will come of it. Christian would undoubtedly call me naïve for not realizing Thomas might want more, and in years past, I might have been a bit too naïve, but after the last six months, I like to think I've gotten a little more cynical, not believing the best of anybody until they've proved themselves to me. I know that's a byproduct of being betrayed by the one person in the world I should have been able to trust without hesitation.

And anyway, even if things between Thomas and me did go beyond work, that would be my business. I'm allowed to have friends, especially if my husband is going to have mistresses. Before this, I never even considered being with another man besides Christian; I had no desire to. Christian satisfied every need or want I've ever had. I know if I were to ever be with someone else romantically I'd feel guilty, but maybe I need to consider exploring other options. There is a very good chance Christian and I won't be able to reconcile after what he did, and eventually I'll want to move on.

Opening my apartment door, I'm fighting tears. Who am I kidding? Nobody could ever replace Christian in my life. For so long he was my everything. I lived and breathed for that man. Since watching that video of him and that woman in Escala, I've felt like I lost some fundamental part of myself, a part that I'll never have again.

 _That may be true,_ says my subconscious in an uncharacteristically kind, gentle tone, _but maybe you can build up a new part. This situation has the potential to strengthen you. You have to decide whether you want to let it or not._

Eventually I manage to calm myself down enough to call and have my nightly chat with Teddy before going to bed. It never fails to cheer me up to hear him so happy and animated as he describes all the things around him. I miss having him here with me, but I know it's good for him to spend time with Christian, too. No matter what happens between us, I will never keep my son from his father. It's bad enough I've taken Teddy to another country, making it difficult for Christian to see him as often as he would like, but maybe with time I'll be able to return to Seattle. Or if not Seattle, somewhere closer. Portland, maybe...

As he's done during every conversation, Teddy offers to let me talk to Christian. And as I've done during every conversation, I decline, telling Teddy that it's very late here and I have to get some sleep before work in the morning. He accepts this, thankfully, and I tell him I love him and that I'll see him at the end of the summer.

We say our goodbyes and I put aside my phone, feeling anything but tired. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I had a full night's sleep. Regardless, I grab a glass of water, a book, and head into my bedroom where I flop down on the bed, thankful to myself that I had a touch of selfishness and indulged in a bit of self-spoiling. This is so much more comfortable than that old couch...

* * *

By the time I'm preparing to leave for Seattle for three days, I'm feeling better than I have in years. I absolutely _love_ my job. I might just be an assistant to an editor, whereas at Grey Publishing I was running everything, but I feel like my opinion matters around there. Thomas is genuinely eager to hear my thoughts about new manuscripts and even on existing clients. There have been a few that have had the company's business for decades, but some of the authors seemed to have stopped trying. When I commented about one in particular, Thomas sort of looked at me and I felt like at any moment he was about to tell me to pack up my desk, but he just nodded thoughtfully and asked me to arrange meetings to discuss our issues with aforementioned authors to get them back on track.

Outside of work, I'm finding Thomas and I are becoming fast friends. We've had dinner together several times since that night at the office and we're getting to know each other better. Last night I even invited him to my apartment for a couple drinks and we sat around talking for hours. I found myself telling him what brought Teddy and me to London in the first place, about Christian's affair, and it was amazing how liberating it was to be able to talk to an outsider. He was sympathetic, telling me in turn about his ex-wife's affair about six years ago. It about destroyed him, much like this was doing to me, but eventually he realized he needed to put the pieces back together and move on with his life. I almost expected him to make a move on me, to take advantage of my vulnerability, and I was almost disappointed when he thanked me for the drinks, wished me luck in Seattle, and said good night.

After he left, I checked my email quickly before bed and found one from Christian informing me that the GEH plane would be awaiting me at the airport bright and early tomorrow and that a car would be in front of my building to pick me up. I know better than to ask how he knows where I live. It's not even a surprise after all this time. I replied to thank him and tell him I would see him soon. I wanted to add an _I love you_ , but it didn't seem right to give either of us any false hope for our situation.

* * *

Next morning I wake bright and early. I'm just finishing a quick breakfast when the intercom beside my door buzzes; it's the security desk to inform me there is a car waiting for me and asking if I require any help with my bags. I decline. I've got one duffel bag and a backpack in addition to my purse, and I think I can handle getting myself to the elevator and out the front door.

I'm greeted by an SUV that so resembles Christian's fleet at home that I half expect him and Taylor to be there. Instead, there's a driver who immediately takes my bags from me to load them in the car, and a man I've never seen before. It's no real surprise to me to find out Christian sent him as security. I sigh resignedly to myself as I shake his hand before he ushers me into the car so we can make our way to the airport.

During the drive, I feel myself getting more nervous than I can remember being. I'm about to face things I haven't wanted to face since I left Seattle. I'm about to confront my husband and discover whether we can ever be together again. At the thought, I reach behind me for my backpack, searching for the folder I made sure to pack. I know this is going to cause the mother of all fights between Christian and me, but it's a necessity in our situation. The upside to all this is I get to see my family for the first time in far too long. I know they will all have questions for me, questions that couldn't have possibly been satisfied by my brief conversations with Mia. I'm going to have to tell them the truth, at least some of them, and I'm dreading it. I certainly don't want to go on with them thinking I just up and left Christian on a whim, but there are some details I really don't want to divulge. They would have been blind if they hadn't seen Christian and I were having troubles to begin with, and for all I know Christian confided in one of his family members.

As much as he hurt me, though, I don't want to ruin the relationship his he has with his family, particularly his mother. Grace spent so long wanting the son she knew was waiting in hiding within Christian, and since the two of us got together, he's become much more open with her. Then again, maybe she could knock some sense into her son's thick head to make him see what he's been doing to me. She knows he's far from perfect. I still haven't forgotten the confrontation between Christian, Grace, and Elena Lincoln on Christian's birthday a few years back. Grace had been devastated to find out someone she considered a dear friend had abused her son. Then she was just angry that Christian had kept that from her for so long.

The few times I talked to her about it, I knew she blamed herself for what happened to Christian. Maybe if she'd spent more time with him to try and get him on the right path he wouldn't have gone out seeking other forms of comfort. Of course it wasn't her fault. Christian had his problems and yes, he was only a kid when things between him and Elena began, but he had the choice to keep going back to her. Even after he turned eighteen, though, he chose to keep on the way he had been going. I never blamed Christian for what he went through, making my own choice to blame Elena for the most part, but I'm still convinced he could have made the decision to improve his own life.

 _This is not helping anything, Anastasia. You can't just keep blaming Christian for every little thing that goes wrong in your life_. Oh good, my subconscious is back to her unhelpful, bitchy self.

Finally we arrive at the very familiar GEH jet, the one that I just saw take my son and Mia away from me a month ago. As I board, I smile my hello to Stephan, pleased to see a friendly face, and look around, remembering all the good times I've had aboard this plane. I quickly make a pact to myself to stay far away from the bedroom at the back of the jet as I know that will only depress me further. It's not long before the flight attendant is directing me to my seat for takeoff.

* * *

I step off the GEH jet gratefully. It's nice flying privately as opposed to commercial, but it tends to get lonely when you're by yourself, especially when you've flown from London to Seattle. As expected, there is a black SUV waiting for me, and I find myself surprised and slightly disappointed not to see Christian anywhere in sight. The moment I'm off the last step, however, the rear door opens and I'm being rushed by a squealing Kate. For the next few minutes, we partake in the usual reunion ritual of women—hugging, talking at a rapid pace in unison, and crying. It's so good to see her. She hasn't changed in the slightest and that comforts me.

Arm-in-arm, we return to the SUV and climb in. Automatically, I look at the driver's seat, feeling my stomach flip when I see Taylor looking at me in the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face.

"Hello, Jason," I say quietly, uncertain of the reception he might give me. I have, after all, left his boss, and I can imagine he's suffered the brunt of Christian's anger and frustrations over the last six months...

But Taylor's smile only widens and his eyes have a welcoming twinkle in them. "Hello, Mrs. Grey," he says respectively. "It's good to see you."

I relax almost instantly, knowing Kate is looking between us curiously. "You, too, Jason. How's Gail?"

"Very well, ma'am," Taylor tells her as he puts the car in drive and starts to leave the runway. "She's looking forward to seeing you."

The drive from Sea-Tac to Carrick and Grace's home in Bellevue is filled with conversation as Kate fills me in on what she's been up to, how quickly Ava is growing, and other little tidbits I've missed out on. I respond by telling her about my job in London, the new apartment, and the people I've met, carefully keeping Thomas out of the conversation for now. With things so uncertain between us, I don't want to bring him up to anyone in case it fizzles out; no use making things worse...

"So it's just the girls tonight," Kate informs me. "Christian, Elliot, Carrick, Ray, and Teddy all went out on the boat yesterday and they're not expected back until tomorrow for the party."

Again with the surprise and disappointment; I hadn't realized how eager I'd been to see Christian tonight until now, even if I wasn't quite ready to face the conversations that were sure to come before Teddy and I return to London. "And when you say _the girls_ , you mean..."

"You, me, Grace, Mia, and your dear mother," Kate recited. "It'll be fun. Pizza, wine, ice cream, sappy movies that require each of us to carry our very own box of tissues... You know, a typical girls' night in."

"Sounds great," I tell her sincerely. At least this way I'll be able to ease myself back into things without the overwhelming presence of Christian Grey looming over my shoulder. There'll be plenty of that for the rest of this little visit...

When we arrive at the house, I'm a little surprised there's no welcoming committee, but Kate tells me the others will arrive in a couple hours and doesn't seem willing to go into details about where they are. In fact, Kate seems to have a very one-track mind as she drags me through the house past where Taylor dropped my luggage, through the kitchen where she pauses briefly to grab a couple glasses of wine before dragging me out onto the back patio.

"Sit," she says imperiously, pointing to a deck chair and handing me my wine glass. I suddenly realize my best friend has spent the entire ride here lulling me into a false security and had probably made it so she and I were the only ones here when we arrived. "Start talking, Steele."

 _Knew it..._ "Kate..."

"Don't even try deflecting," Kate says firmly. "It's been six months, you owe us some explanations. It's been hell trying to figure things out for ourselves and we need to know if Christian needs to be strung up by his balls."

I blink at her words and almost smile. I want to tell her, I want to get this off my chest, but for whatever reason I can't get the words out.

"Did he cheat on you?" Kate asks, her voice more gentle. I look at her with tears filling my eyes. She sucks in a sharp breath and I know she knows. "Was it that Elena bitch?"

"No," I say more sharply than I intend. I may have my problems with Christian right now, but I won't let people think he's been with the Bitch Troll again. If that got back to Grace, it would break her heart. "No, it wasn't her. It was somebody he met at the gym of all places."

Kate looked at me incredulously. "The _gym?_ "

I nod.

"How long?"

I sigh. "According to him, five months before I found out, and it began about a month after our anniversary vacation," I tell her.

Setting aside her wine glass, Kate's expression is sympathetic. "How'd you find out?" she asked quietly.

I feel my eyes rolling. "Security video," I say tersely. "A half hour long video that I found on his computer which showed far more than I ever wanted to see."

"A Christian Grey sex tape?" Kate whispers, her eyes wide and horrified.

I manage to crack a very slight smile. "I suppose so. Anyway, I found out, we fought for a week then I left. And until now, I haven't looked back."

"That asshole," Kate mutters. "Well, that explains quite a bit, I suppose."

"What do you mean?" I feel dread filling me.

Kate shrugs. "Just the way he's been since you left. He's as miserable as you would think, but he's done a few strange things."

"Like..." I say leadingly.

"Like selling his apartment," Kate tells me promptly. My mouth drops open. "Yeah. About two months ago. He wouldn't tell anybody why he sold it so suddenly when he's been insisting for years it was a necessary piece of property. Sold pretty quickly, too. Very private. Elliot tried to get him drunk enough to tell us how much the place sold for, but no such luck..."

I am in absolute shock right now at my husband's behavior. Not that I really care about the state of Escala—it can burn down to the fucking ground for all I care—but he loved that place. At one point, so did I. And I can't help but wonder what he's done with the contents of the playroom—did he move it all to the big house or throw it out?

"He's also been more dedicated to working since you left. Top secret stuff, apparently; either that or he's just avoiding telling us anything," Kate goes on wryly. "The jackass seems to have reverted to his before Ana state, according to the family. And let me tell you, Steele, if this was how he was before the two of you met, it's a wonder someone hasn't killed him to put everyone out of their misery. He's constantly angry with everybody, picks fights, pouts like a little boy when he doesn't get his way... If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's reverted to his teenage years."

Granted, I don't know all the details of Christian's life during those years past what he's told me about his anger, need for fighting, drinking, and constant hard-on, not to mention Elena Lincoln, but I can imagine it hasn't been easy for his family. How many times has Grace thanked me over the years for "giving her the son she knew was lying dormant"? Now he's regressed back to that and for a moment, I feel guilty, until I realize that this is all his own doing. He's the one who caused this, the one who couldn't keep it in his pants. I feel bad for the rest of the family, but that's about the extent of it.

Kate changes the subject, much to my relief, and within the hour, I hear three familiar voices through the open kitchen door. The next several minutes are spent greeting my mother, Grace, and Mia, having them welcoming me home and telling me how wonderful it is to see me.

Our evening progresses just as Kate said it would. No one presses me for information about what happened between Christian and me, though I feel Grace's curious gaze lingering on me more than once. It's been far too long since I felt myself letting go with people who really know me. We're in the home theater room with some romantic-comedy playing in the background, but no one is paying attention. The wine has been flowing almost too steadily all evening and we've got pizza boxes, ice cream cartons, bowls of popcorn, and any number of other junk foods, and we're all laughing hysterically at something Mia said, though if threatened by gunpoint to tell somebody what it was, we'd all have bullets in our heads. It's past one in the morning when we finally manage to stumble upstairs to bedrooms. Kate and I collapse into one and we're both asleep in minutes.

* * *

The next morning over a greasy breakfast promised to soak up what remains of the alcohol, my mom and Grace are quietly debating the best hangover remedies while Mia stares at her plate looking as though the second she opens her mouth in an attempt to eat she'll be immediately sick. It's not until around lunchtime that any of us is starting to feel more like ourselves. We move our little party out onto the deck where Grace sets up the grill in preparation for the men's arrival, which will be within the hour apparently.

Before they get here, I excuse myself to take a shower, unwilling to face Christian looking like a walking hangover, even if that is exactly how I feel. So I carefully shower and shave, blow dry and style my hair, leaving it down to hang around my shoulders, then dress in a pair of shorts Christian once ordered me never to leave the house wearing and a t-shirt that fits loosely but still hugs my curves perfectly.

As I look into the mirror before rejoining everyone, I briefly wonder whether I'm doing this for myself as an excuse to look and feel nice or if I'm doing it for Christian's benefit. It's been nearly seven months since I've seen him after all and I've always had the need to make myself feel desirable in his eyes. Trying to convince myself this isn't what I'm doing, I head downstairs again, stopping at the door from the kitchen to the deck. Elliot, Carrick, and Ray are there, talking to the women and standing around the grill. I scan the area for any sign of Christian or Teddy, but I don't see any. I feel nervous again, anxious to see Christian again, and I actually start to panic a little until I hear a familiar set of footsteps that are trying to be quiet so the owner can surprise me. I hide my smile, keeping my eyes on the activity outside, acting surprise when I feel someone crash into my legs, wrapping their arms around my knees in a hug.

I turn around enough to look down and find Teddy looking up at me with his big blue eyes and a huge smile on his face. "Hi, baby," I say to him, pulling myself from his arms so I can reach down to take him into my own. "Oh, I've missed you."

"Missed you, too, Mommy," Teddy tells me, wrapping his arms around my neck. He pulls back to play with my hair. "Guess what? Daddy took me out on his boat!"

"Did he?" I ask, acting surprised. "Did you have fun?"

Teddy nods. "Uh huh," he tells me. "Grandpa Ray and Grandpa Carry helped me fish and Uncle Elliot fell into the water and Daddy had to save him."

"Really?" I'm trying not to laugh at the image he's portraying of Elliot floundering over the side of the boat and Christian being incredibly irritated because he's got to pull his brother back onto the boat. I'm willing to bet he spent a couple minutes debating with Carrick whether it was even worth rescuing him, then coming to the conclusion that Kate would kill them if they let her husband drown.

"Yeah, but he was only joking," Teddy says, grinning. "Daddy reached down to help him out of the water and Uncle Elliot grabbed him and pulled him into the water, too."

I giggle at this new image and drag my eyes away from my son for the first time, immediately finding my husband standing at the entrance of the kitchen. My amusement is gone as I adjust my hold on Teddy, running my greedy gaze over him. I hadn't believed it possible, but he's more gorgeous than I remember. He's wearing faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Clearly he's been working out often over the last several months—I try not to wonder whether he's been back to the gym—and he's more fit than he's ever been. His copper hair is in its usual just-fucked state, he's a little more tan, and his eyes are dark gray as they stare at me. My limbs feel wobbly and I reluctantly place Teddy on his feet before I drop him.

Almost as though it was planned from the onset, Teddy runs past me to join the party outside, leaving me alone with Christian. I'm speechless. I'm wide-eyed and terrified. And I don't think I'm the only one feeling this way. Christian hasn't moved a muscle; only his eyes are active as they travel down my body, taking in every possible detail, and when he finally meets my eyes again, his gaze has darkened. I know that look. Heat courses through my veins, traveling downwards until it pools between my thighs. And god dammit, he knows what he's doing; he knows he still has an effect on me, if that smirk on his face is any clue.

"Hello, Anastasia," he whispers huskily as he slowly closes some of the distance between us.

I remain rooted on the spot until he comes within about ten feet of me; I take a pointed step backwards, raising my eyebrows so he knows I'd rather he not come any closer. Hurt crosses his face, but he swallows heavily and the expression is gone. "Hello, Christian," I respond quietly.

He almost smiles. "You look wonderful," he says, his tone filled with what sounds like awe.

"Thank you," I respond. My mouth has suddenly gone dry and I can hear my heart beating as though it's located between my ears rather than in my chest.

He starts to say something else, but his gaze drifts over my shoulder and he scowls, snapping his mouth shut until it forms a tight line. I glance over my shoulder curiously and blush furiously when I find the majority of our family staring at us. Grace, Carrick, Carla, Ray, and Elliot all look away guiltily, but Kate and Mia are still watching us unabashedly. "Shall we?" Christian asks, gesturing stiffly at the open door.

I feel disappointed that whatever moment was forming between us has been broken and I know Christian is feeling the same. Over lunch, I catch up on six months worth of news, sharing my own about my new job and the new apartment that I only just finished moving my and Teddy's belongings into. Christian, when he's not glaring daggers at Kate and Mia, is hanging on my every word, like he's a starving man desperate for the feast he knows is coming. A few times I catch him smiling, a real Christian Grey, shy, loving, I'd-do-anything-for-you smile, and I almost forget the problems hanging between us.

For a few hours, it feels like everything is normal. At one point, Christian and I are even chatting. It's stilted, overly polite chat, but we're both enjoying this time. Not until early evening when Kate and Elliot decide it's time to take Ava home are we jolted back into the reality of our situation.

"You going to be okay?" Kate asks quietly, pulling me aside before she leaves.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I lie. Truth is, I have no idea whether I'll be fine; I know what's coming: Christian is waiting in the wings for Kate to leave so he can ask me whether I'm staying with his parents for the duration of my visit or coming back to the big house with him and Teddy. I still haven't quite made my mind up, though I do know my mom and Ray are both staying here with Grace and Carrick, and I know that if I stay as well, I'll be ambushed by all of them at some point and I can't face them right now.

Kate gives me a tight, sympathetic smile, then a big hug before making me promise that we have lunch before Teddy and I leave Sunday night. A minute later, Christian and I are alone in the foyer, even though he's still hiding around the corner. I sigh and turn around, and apparently that's his sign to make his presence known. And what a presence it is. He leans against the wall, his hands in his pockets as he gazes at me like a scared little boy. My poor Fifty...

 _There's nothing poor about him_ , my subconscious hisses at me. _Not in any sense of the word..._

"So it's about Teddy's bedtime," he ventured cautiously. "We'll have to take off soon."

I know right then he's not going to force me to go back to the house with him and Teddy, even if I have already made up my mind. "Well, if you'll wait a few minutes, I can grab my suitcase and I'll ride along with you."

The look on his face is absolutely priceless; he clearly believed I'd be staying here with his parents. It takes a minute or two for him to recover. "I'll grab it for you," he volunteers quickly. "Guest room?"

I nod, and after a brief smile at me, he turns and rushes up the stairs. I head back into the family room where Teddy is playing some game on the floor with his grandfathers, and my mom and Grace are talking quietly, probably about me and Christian judging by the way they stopped speaking instantly the moment they saw me standing there.

"Ready to say good night, baby boy?" I ask my son brightly.

"Okay," Teddy replies, climbing to his feet even though he's still directing Ray on how to play their board game. I'm pretty sure he's thrown away all the rules and has made up his own. My boy is nothing if not imaginative. After a flurry of goodbyes, and a promise from Ray that if I need someone to intervene with Christian, he's only a phone call away, Teddy and I make our way back to the foyer where Christian is waiting for us, my suitcase at his feet. He's tapping away on his BlackBerry, but immediately stows is back in his pocket when he sees us approaching as though he wants me to know I have his full attention.

"Ready?" he asks, looking directly at me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was nervous.

 _Well, he's got reason to be, doesn't he?_

I can only nod in response and follow my husband out the front door, holding onto my son's hand for dear life.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Happy New Year!

* * *

The drive back to the house is tense and silent, and no matter how much we've tried to avoid it in the past, I know our mood has rubbed off on our son, as he doesn't say more than a few words the entire time. Taylor pulls the SUV up to the front of the house and I look up at my home, a feeling of dread setting in. The last time I was here, I was still sweeping the pieces of my broken heart off the floor and believed my marriage was over. Now I'm here to find out whether it's salvageable and I have less than no idea what to expect.

Christian takes Teddy from the car, our son fast asleep against his shoulder. Before I can grab my suitcase, Taylor has already pulled it from the back, ignoring my insistences that I can take it inside myself. Once inside, I briefly regret my decision to return here rather than staying with Christian's parents; he seems to pick up on this as he tells me he's taking Teddy upstairs to his bedroom then awkwardly tells me to make myself at home.

I roll my eyes a little as he disappears up the stairs and slowly make my way through the house. It hasn't changed a bit since the day Teddy and I left, and I realize rather suddenly how much I've missed being here. Despite the problems Christian and I were going through before the affair, I can recollect almost effortlessly all the good times we had here together. When we first moved in, Christian insisted on "christening" almost every available surface and over the years there hasn't been a spot where he haven't either made love or fucked, or both. Before Teddy's birth we spent a lot of time curled up on the floor in front of the family room fireplace talking about our future family and Christian seemed eager to have more children.

Those were the good days and I want so much to go back to that. Even knowing what I now know, I would do most of it all over again and the only changes I would make are the obvious ones—keep us from fighting so much, keep Christian from deciding I wasn't giving him what he wanted so that he had to go out and find somebody else. But the feelings of betrayal are too much for me to handle and while I don't know what's going to happen between Christian and me before Teddy and I return to London, I think I've already decided there won't be any immediate forgiveness or passionate please-take-me-back lovemaking.

A throat clears itself and I spin around to find Christian standing at the kitchen entrance much the way he had been in Bellevue, only this time he's holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Did Teddy go down all right?" I ask, wrapping my arms around myself.

He nods. "Yes. He's pretty exhausted after this weekend..." He hesitates. "Shall we get on with this, then?"

Normally I would be annoyed at the question, thinking he was considering this below him and wanted to get past it before he did something else he deemed more important. Now, however, I know the formality is only his way of showing me how nervous he is about the conversation we both know is coming. I nod my response and follow him back through the house to the family room. Clearly he's been planning this; I take in the blazing fire before taking a seat on the floor in front of it. Christian has moved the coffee table to rest against the couch and he sits on the floor across from me with enough distance between us that I don't feel uncomfortable. As he pours each of us a glass of wine, I wonder whether this was a carefully thought out action on his part; knowing him and his need for control, everything he's done today has been planned out to the last minute detail.

Each of us cupping our wine glass, I'm looking at the fireplace, and Christian's looking at me. "Where should we start?" he asks quietly.

I finally drag my eyes from the flames to meet his dark gray ones that are fill with such sadness that my first reaction is to crawl over to him and pull him into my arms and make him forget his troubles. It only takes a second to remember why we're sitting like this in the first place and that's enough to harden my heart enough to get us through this conversation. "Honestly, Christian," I say quietly, "I have no idea."

His lips twitch up slightly in the beginnings of a smile that doesn't quite appear. "Well, I guess I can start my telling you that I miss you," he whispers. "And that the last six months have been absolute hell for me."

"They haven't exactly been easy for me either, Christian," I reply.

"I know," Christian says. "And I know this is my fault. Ana, you can never know how much I regret what happened. And I know that even if I live another thousand years, I will never be able to make this up to you."

This is enough to get my thoughts in order. "When you say you regret what happened, are you referring to the actual affair or the fact that you got caught?" Christian opens his mouth immediately to respond, but I shake my head to stop him. "Keep in mind we need to be completely honest with each other right now, Christian. No matter how badly you think it might hurt me, I don't think I can possibly hurt anymore than I already am. So I want the truth."

Christian's eyes clench shut for a few seconds as though he's absorbing my pain—I could only be so lucky... When he opens them again, I don't think I've ever seen such raw emotion in his eyes. To his credit, he remained silent for a few minutes, actually thinking about my question, though the fact that it's taking him this long to answer doesn't exactly fill me with warm fuzzies...

"Both," he bites out reluctantly.

I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out whether I really heard what I think I heard. "Both?" I repeat dumbly.

Christian sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Yes, Ana, both. I'm beyond sorry that I had the affair at all, but if you'd never found out about it, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

It's taking every ounce of self-restraint I have in my body not to throw my wine glass, liquid and all, in his face, get up, grab my son, and leave. I remind myself that I came to Seattle knowing this conversation was going to be tough and that he was going to say some very stupid things, but this... "And if I hadn't found out, would it still be going on?" I hear myself ask.

"I honestly don't know," he tells me, shaking his head slowly. "Possibly..."

 _Well, you wanted honesty,_ my subconscious tells me, looking as shocked at Christian's words as I am. "Have you seen her since I left?" I ask, feeling numb.

"Once," he croaks. I remain silent, waiting for him to go on. Apparently he hadn't intended to explain any further, because he sighs in resignation before continuing. "It was a couple months after you and Teddy left. I only went to tell her it was over and I wouldn't be seeing her again after that night. She was upset. I think she thought that since you left, I'd be able to be with her openly and when I told her that wouldn't be happening, she got a little angry. It took Taylor and Sawyer to hold her back so I could get out of there..." He pauses for a moment thoughtfully. "Actually for the first time since they've been in my employ, they both hesitated. Though hesitated might not be the right word—more like stood back and watched as she screamed and hit me and scratched me... I think they enjoyed it."

I smirk a little into my wine, making a mental note to give both Sawyer and Taylor a hug next time I see them. "I want to know everything, Christian," I tell him. "I want to know how you met, what you did, when you did it, and why you did it."

Christian looks at me warily. "Don't do this, Ana," he begged. "Can't we just put it behind us?"

"No," I say bluntly. "Christian, you did more than have an affair. Everything leading up to the affair played a part in why I left and I need to know. Besides, you lost your right to keep things from me."

Still looking as though he'd prefer to break every bone in his body one by one rather than tell me what I need to hear, Christian eventually nods. "What do you want to know first?" he asked quietly.

"Her name," I say promptly. I have my own names for her, but it would be nice to know how other people refer to her...

"Lucy," Christian tells me dryly.

"And how did you meet Lucy?" I ask, the name putting a bad taste in my mouth.

Christian sighs and takes a sip of his wine. "I told you we met at the gym. She's one of Claude's other clients."

"Yes, you told me that," I replied quietly, "but I also know your sessions with Claude are usually private, so how did you come to meet one of his other clients?"

For a moment, he looks annoyed at the line of questioning, but the glare I give him reminds him why we're having this conversation in the first place and he neutralizes his expression. "She was receiving private sessions as well, and hers tended to precede mine. At first, I didn't think anything of her—we never spoke or anything. One evening after a particularly frustrating day—work was stressing me out, you and I were fighting about something—I called Claude and asked him for an emergency session. He agreed, but told me he'd already scheduled somebody for the time slot that I wanted. I tried to convince him to reschedule the other session, but he wouldn't budge, so I agreed to share the session with this other person." He swallows hard and takes another drink from his wine glass. "When I got to the gym, Claude wasn't there yet, but Lucy was. While we waited, we got to talking. Not about anything particularly important; just general polite chitchat."

I vaguely wonder when Christian started having general polite chitchat with anybody, but let the thought drift away.

"It was half an hour before Claude showed up. We did our session and I came home."

Now that he's talking openly, I'm reluctant to hesitate, knowing that if he stays quiet for too long his sharing mood will switch in the blink of an eye. "When did you first sleep with her?" I ask, running through the vast list of questions I need answered.

Christian drains his wine glass and quickly refilling it, offering to refill mine as well. I decline. "It was during that business trip to Los Angeles," he eventually responds. I scan my memory to remember what he's referring to and it comes to me rather quickly. He had scheduled the trip rather last minute, informed me about it through an email as we were fighting once again, and essentially left without saying goodbye to me or Teddy. I was positively livid when I realized what he'd done. "On the third night, I was in the hotel bar, having a drink before bed, and Lucy wanders in. Apparently she was in town on business as well. She joined me at the bar and we spent a couple hours just talking. At the end of the night, I invited her up to my room."

I don't know whether to cry or scream, or both as I imagine my husband leading this woman through the hotel, up the elevator, and into his room where they probably did any number of things they shouldn't have been doing. "Why?" I ask, unable to form any other words. "And please, don't give me the _I lost control_ bullshit again."

With a sigh, Christian looks at me and I know he's been spending the last six months trying to work out the answer to this question on his own. "I don't know. When we talked, the conversation just flowed. She was entertaining to talk with and we seemed to have quite a bit in common. I didn't mean for it to happen, Ana. I could sit here and blame the alcohol I'd been drinking that night or the fact that you and I were at odds constantly, or how increasingly lonely I was becoming, but none of it comes close to justifying what I put you through. Before I took her to my room, I thought I'd just made a friend and that was comforting in and of itself. As time went on, it started to feel like it was with you and me in the beginning. I was completely beguiled by her. We started seeing each other more and more often. She would meet me wherever I was going on business. Obviously we couldn't go out in public together without risking being caught by paparazzi."

"Were you in love with her?" I ask, my eyes already burning from the tears I refuse to shed right now.

"I thought so," Christian responds hoarsely. "At the time, I was so wrapped up in what I was doing and keeping it secret from you that I convinced myself I was in love with her, and she me. For her, it might have been true. I spent so much time wondering what I should do, whether I should leave you to be with her, whether I should end things with her to be with you... Both options terrified and saddened me, because if I ended things with her, it would mean going right back to us fighting constantly, and I am never more miserable than when you and I are fighting. But at the same time, I didn't want to lose you and what we had. Despite my actions to the contrary, I never stopped loving you or wanting to be with you. I never wanted to hurt you, Ana."

I look away from him, tears streaming down my face. "And yet..." I say, shaking my head.

"I know," he says, trying to blink away his own tears. "I fucked up. Badly. I deserved you leaving me and more. But I want a chance to make this up to you if I can. I want you back, Ana. I want my family back. And I will do whatever it takes to bring you home. Please tell me what I can do."

"Christian, I don't know that there _is_ anything you can do," I say hollowly. "This is about so much more than the affair. The last few years have been terrible. You've demolished my self-confidence, you took away any semblance of independence that I may have had, and you made me feel like I was here solely for your sexual pleasure, and outside the bedroom, you had no interest in my or our marriage."

He looks at me horrified. "That's really how I made you feel?" he asks weakly. I nod jerkily. "Oh god, Ana, I didn't even realize... Why didn't you say anything?"

"I tried!" I cry indignantly. "Anytime I brought it up, we fought, you stormed out, and I was left here to take care of Teddy on my own." A thought passes through my mind. "All those times you left after one of our fights, did you go to her?" I don't need an audible response to know the answer to my question. The look in his eyes is more than enough. "Nothing ever changes. If you and I fight, you run to someone else. If it's not her, it's Elena."

Finally a reaction aside from lost little boy as I watch Christian's eyes flash in anger and annoyance. "Not this again," he grumbles.

"Yes, Christian, this again. Tell me, when was the last time you saw Elena?"

"Ana, I fucking told you I haven't seen her since before Teddy was born!" he shouts.

I don't flinch like I once might have done, but I shake my head, letting the subject drop for the moment. That fight was monumental and led to me leaving him for nearly a week. The only reason we got back together was because I'd gone into labor and Christian showed up at the hospital to be with me. Once Teddy was born and the doctors deemed it safe for the two of us to go home, Christian wasted no time in loading us into the car, refusing to listen to my protests. He did his groveling bit and eventually I decided our son was most important. Eventually, the subject of Elena fell to the wayside, though I've never forgotten about it. But that's a story for another time...

"All I'm saying, Christian, is that instead of running to the one person you need to be running to when things go wrong, you head in the opposite direction," I say calmly. "And after this, how am I supposed to trust anything you say or do from here on out?"

"If you come home where you belong, I can regain your trust. Baby, I will do whatever it takes. If you want to continue living apart from me until you sort this out, fine. I'll leave here or I can get you an apartment if you prefer, but how do you expect us to work on any of this when you're in London?" He's begging again, reverting to the little lost boy he knows breaks my heart.

 _Not this time, Grey._ "Christian, for the first time in my post-college life, I'm on my own, doing things for myself. I have a great apartment, I'm living in London, and I love my job. I don't want to give that up yet. Not until I've been able to work through my feelings about you."

He looks so miserable. "Do you at least miss me?" he whispers. "Do you even still love me?"

I close my eyes for several minutes to avoid looking at his face, knowing that if I do, I'll just give in to every desire I've had over the last seven months. "Yes," I finally reply. "To both questions. But that doesn't change a thing, Christian."

When I open my eyes, I find him holding his head in his hands. "I know it doesn't."

With a sigh, I go into the one subject I hadn't wanted to discuss. "In the interest of complete honesty," I say hesitantly. Christian snaps his gaze up to meet mine. "Christian, I've met somebody."

All I can do is watch the color drain from his face as my words sink into his mind. "What?" he breathes.

I nod. "As of right this moment, it's nothing more than friendship, but I can see it turning into something more if I decide I want it. I'm not saying I'm going to act on anything right now—actually, I think it's best if I just focus on myself and Teddy for the time being—but I don't want you to be surprised if to learn somewhere down the line that I've started dating."

Devastation turns to anger in the blink of an eye. "Dating?" he growls, giving me the full Christian Grey glare. "Who the fuck is he?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not telling you his name, Christian," I say dully.

"Why the fuck not!" he roars.

Rather than being intimidated or frightened, I stare at him steadily. "First of all, lower your voice," I hiss at him. "Teddy is asleep. Second of all, I'm not telling you because I know how you operate: the moment I turn my back after giving you his name, you'll be on the phone with Taylor and Welch and who the fuck knows who else to get more information. Then if you're really in a mood, you'll send someone to 'warn' him about keeping his hands off 'your property.' Am I wrong?"

The anger dissipates slowly and I swear the bastard is smirking at me. "Fair point well made, Mrs. Grey," he mutters to himself. "Ana, look, I know I fucked up but that doesn't mean you need to go to another country and fuck the first bastard that smiles sweetly at you."

"That's rich, coming from the man who fucked a whore he met at a gym," I shoot back, uncertain where the hostile words are coming from. They hit the mark though; Christian flinches as though I've struck him. "I haven't fucked anybody but you, Christian. Ever. I don't want that to change, but I'm also not going to come back here and let things go right back to the way they were before I left. In fact..." I stand suddenly and Christian's eyes widen. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

He nods dumbly, watching my every move as I head back to the front door where Taylor left my luggage. I locate my backpack and retrieve the folder before carrying it back to Christian, knowing this will not end well. "Here." I shove the folder in front of him and wait for him to take it before sitting down again.

"What is this?" he asks with trepidation, looking between it and me uncertainly.

"Just read it," I reply, refilling my wine finally.

He follows my request with a heavy sigh, leaving me to concentrate on my wine. I can't look at him right now, not knowing exactly what he's reading and what's going on in his mind. It killed me when I made the decision to have these papers drawn up, but I needed Christian to know this situation can't be fixed by one conversation and makeup sex.

"What the fuck is this?" he asks in a carefully measured tone, finally looking away from the paperwork to meet my gaze. "Ana, what the fuck?"

"It's a legal separation agreement," I hear myself say. "I'd like you to sign it."

"No," Christian replies firmly. "Abso-fucking-lutely not."

I sigh. I knew this was going to happen... "Christian, I'm not filing anything right away," I tell him wearily. "I just want the paperwork if and when I decide to make something official."

"I'm not fucking signing this shit, Anastasia," he tells me firmly, tossing the folder on the floor between us. "I'll sit here in Seattle and let you indulge in your little independence games in London for a little while longer, but you will be coming home to me and we will be working on this."

"What did you just say?" I say in a deathly quiet voice. I cannot have possibly heard him correctly. "My little independence games? Fuck you, Christian! You did this to us! You decided it was worth risking our marriage and our family just so you could go off and get your jollies with that bitch. And let me tell you something else, the days where you get to tell me where I'm going to go and what I'm going to do when I get there are long gone. I came here hoping to get answers from you and to see my family. I am going back to London and I am taking our son with me. There are a million things we need to work on before I will even consider coming back to you. I want you to keep seeing Teddy as often as you can. You can come visit us in London or I can fly him out here during school holidays—I can stay with Kate and Elliot. Maybe with time we can work through this, but honestly, Christian, I don't see that happening any time soon."

He gasps a sob and I know all his anger has been a mask for his pain. "Ana, please," he begs, forcing himself onto his knees to shuffle closer than me. I try not to flinch when he's close enough to cradle my face in his hands. "Baby, please don't give up on me. I can't lose you again."

I lean into his touch for a moment, relishing in the feel of his skin. "Then you shouldn't have cheated on me, Christian," I whisper, letting my lips kiss the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He sucks in a sharp breath in response. "Look, I had a late night last night and I'm exhausted. Maybe we should continue this tomorrow."

He falls back onto his heels looking so dejected and miserable. "Okay," he whispers.

A few minutes later, the lights are off in the house, the doors are locked, and the wine glasses are in the kitchen sink. When I go for the separation agreement papers, they're not where Christian tossed them which makes me think he might have taken them. I'm far too tired to start another argument, but I have this horrible feeling they might be running through the shredder some time soon. But I'll deal with it later.

Christian is carrying my duffel bag and backpack up the stairs, looking at me uncertainly. "I don't know if you want to sleep in our bedroom," he begins quietly. "I haven't slept there since the night you left... If you don't want to, the second guest room is made up."

I don't think I can stomach sleeping in our bed, especially not without him. And there is no way I'm letting him sleep beside me. Not right now at least. "I'll take the guest room," I manage to reply, unable to meet his eyes.

I see him nod out of the corner of my eye and I follow him into the room across from Teddy's. Christian drops my bags at the foot of the bed then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well," he says in a falsely casual tone, "I'll let you get settled. Sleep well, Ana."

"You, too, Christian," I whisper back, trying not to cry.

He gives me a tight smile that tells me he won't be sleeping at all tonight. Neither will I. After another awkward few moments, he turns and leaves the room, closing the door silently behind him and leaving me feeling more alone than I have in the last seven months collectively.


	7. Chapter 7

I wake from a restless sleep in the middle of the night and turn on my side, my eyes locating the alarm clock immediately. 2:53AM. The clock seems to be mocking me and I desperately want to throw it across the room to listen to it shatter into a million tiny pieces. I only resist only because I know the noise will wake Anastasia, if she's asleep at all. I've spent the last three hours lying her trying not to get up and creep into her room just to be near her. I can't stop thinking about our disaster of a conversation when we got home and put our son to bed.

Telling her about Lucy had been one of the most difficult things I've had to do in the last seven months. Of course I've thought about her more often than I should, wondering about the what ifs. What if I hadn't met Ana when Lucy came breezing into my life? Would we have ended up together? What if I hadn't ended things? Would she be living here with me now? How would my family respond? I can only imagine the hostility towards the both of us.

Things between Ana and I were declining for years before I met Lucy. It's not only my fault; she practically gave up on us, too. We still had the odd good day here and there—our anniversary vacation was nothing short of amazing—and there were times when I really believed we were working towards improving our marriage. But almost the moment we returned home, the tension returned, I went off to my study, Ana went to tend to our son, and everything went back to the way they had been. I never stopped loving my wife and the devastation I suffered when she left was unfounded. I want her back more than anything. I want to be able to prove to her that I can be the husband she wants and deserves. I don't want to sit here in Seattle wondering whether some other man is trying to take my place as both a lover for my wife and father to my son. When it comes down to it, the only one I want is Anastasia. In hindsight, I know Lucy was little more than a distraction for my marriage troubles.

I still have no idea how Ana came across that security video. She said she found it on my computer, but I know goddamn well I wasn't sitting behind my desk watching it myself. At one point, I asked Welch look into how it had gotten there. He said it had been an attachment in an email, but the email address was untraceable. I have my suspicions on who sent it, but I haven't been able to confirm those suspicions.

My silent musings are interrupted by what sounds like a muffled sob. Immediately I'm out of bed and in the hallway before I can even register whether I'm hearing my son or my wife. I quickly realize I'm hearing Ana and my heart breaks a little more knowing I'm the one causing her pain. For a few minutes, I linger outside the guest room wondering what I should do—my first inclination is to burst into the room to comfort her, but I have no idea how she might react to that. It would kill me if she pushed me away, though it's the least of what I deserve. But I can't just leave her like this. I am the epitome of selfishness as I quietly open the guest room door and slip inside.

Through the dark, I can see my wife curled into a ball on one side of the bed and I can hear her crying into her pillow. I cross the room in a few long strides and slide into the bed beside her, immediately reaching out to pull her into my arms. She tenses as she realizes I'm in bed with her and she tries pushing me away.

"No," she sobs, putting her hands against my chest for leverage.

"Shh," I murmur into her hair, increasing the grip I have around her. Eventually she gives up, resting her head against my chest as she continues to cry. I have no idea how long we lie there, but slowly her sobs and sniffles fade, and her breathing slows. Just as I think she's about to fall asleep, and start debating whether I should risk jostling her to return to my own bed or just stay here, I hear her take in a shaky breath.

"I can't do this anymore, Christian," she says weakly. "I'm so sick of hurting." She lifts her head up to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed and tears streaking down her cheeks. "I've spent the last two and a half years crying myself to sleep, because I knew I was losing you. I didn't know to what degree and I never seriously believed you would cheat on me. Of course it crossed my mind a few times, especially after that mess with Elena—"

"Ana—" I try to cut her off before she can say anymore; Elena is not a subject that will get us back on the right track to reconciliation.

But she shakes her head at me. "Christian, you can tell me all you want that there was nothing between you and Elena, but you're lying to both of us. I believed you when you said you never slept with her, but you will never convince me you weren't seeing her at all. I saw the two of you together." It's my turn to stiffen as my heart skips a beat. What does she mean she saw us together? When? Where? "Teddy and I were going to surprise you for lunch one afternoon. He was still only a few months old and Sawyer had to pull over so I could take him into a bathroom to clean him from an exploding diaper." Exploding diapers. I remember those. Teddy was a master at it. "He stopped us outside this little bistro and I got out with Teddy and the diaper bag. I got inside and there you were sitting in a corner with Elena. I don't remember how long I stood there. I debated on whether I should take Teddy into the bathroom, change him, then walk over and drop the diaper in the middle of your table, but in the end I just left. You came home that night acting as normal as ever. Every time I started to confront you about Elena, I just couldn't find the words. You didn't care about having lunch with the woman who abused you as a child, so why should I? We were fighting enough as it was; there wasn't much point adding more fuel to the fire..."

All I can do is hold her and stare at the ceiling, searching for anything to say in response to this revelation. I had no idea Ana's suspicions about my rekindling my friendship with Elena was actually based on something aside from paranoia. During one of our many fights, she brought Elena into it. I immediately went on the defensive, thinking there was no possible way she could have known about the lunch meetings I'd been having. Nothing ever evolved from it—the thought of Elena's touch still repulses me after all these years. I just needed someone to talk to, an outsider's opinion on things. At first, Elena just listened. After a while, she subtlety began telling me she'd known all along Ana and I would never last, that Ana couldn't possibly be what I needed her to be. There were days when I left those lunches almost believing she was right. One thing I can say about Ana is that despite our fighting, she was always there when I needed to let loose sexually. The sex never suffered; actually, it only got better. There was angry sex, makeup sex, wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-I'm-sorry sex. We still had the amazing kinky fuckery that brought us together in the first place. It's surprising that of all the things I miss about Anastasia, the sex is low on the list. I mean, of course I miss it. I miss watching her face contort in ecstasy knowing I'm the one making her come. The way she cried out my name over and over. She was never not ready for me. We were a perfect match that way: where I was constantly hard, she was constantly wet.

I miss holding her as we sleep and waking up beside her every morning. I miss her sitting with me while we eat. I miss the way she can distract me from my work when I'm stressing far too much. I miss her smile. I miss her laugh. I miss her smart mouth. Fuck, I just miss her.

"I could give you a million excuses for why I've done what I've done," I say hoarsely. "But I know they won't even come close to making you feel better. I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world for reducing you to this. Ana, you should be living the fucking dream right now. You should be here with me and our son and we should be on cloud fucking nine. I can't take back what I did to you. All I can do is promise you it will never happen again and beg you once more to consider taking me back."

She sighs so heavily her entire body heaves. "Christian, I can't," she whispers weakly. "Don't think I don't want to. Don't think I don't want to go back in time and erase the last two and a half years of our life. But I can't. Not right now at least. I need the chance to live my life and find out what else is out there for me. Baby, I need to find out if it's even possible to live a life without you in it. And until I find the answer to that, I can't be with you."

I'm fighting not to cry. This has to be a nightmare. She can't really be saying these things to me. The pain in my chest proves it's happening and only reminds me I've ruined everything I've worked for, everything I've ever wanted. I want her happy again. If that means letting her go back to London, back to that fucker she met, it's what I have to do. "Just tell me this," I whisper. "Do you think there's a chance you could be happy with somebody else?" I hold my breath waiting for her answer.

"I don't know," she responds. "I just don't know. Could you be happy with somebody else? Clearly you were for a few months..."

"It wasn't real, Ana," I tell her. "It was a fucking illusion, all of it. I could get away from everything for a few hours. I could pretend I was happy. I could pretend I was in love with her and that we could have a life together. But I came home to you and Teddy, and I realized the two of you were my reality. Every time I left her I wanted to end things with Lucy and work on us, but you were drifting farther away from me and I was drifting farther away from you, and we just didn't know each other anymore. I know that's no excuse. I know I should have sat down with you and talked through this. But I was afraid of losing you." I roll my eyes at the irony. "I've lost you anyway."

"Has there been anyone else since you and I have been together?" she asks quietly.

"No," I tell her honestly. "Lucy was the first and the last. You are the only person I ever want to be with for the rest of my life. And I am so sorry it's taken _this_ for me to realize that."

"So am I," she whispers.

At some point, the both of us fall asleep and for the first time in far too long, I actually get a full night's sleep. And when I wake up in the morning, I'm going to have to hold onto that memory of having my wife in my arms, because I don't know when or if I'll have that again.

* * *

The rest of the weekend practically flies by. The morning after my conversation with Christian I woke up feeling confused and disoriented. I'd been having the most wonderful dream that Christian was holding me. Just holding me. For that moment I was able to pretend he was mine again and it was bliss. It took me a while to remember that I had actually fallen asleep in my husband's arms. He was gone in the morning and I spent my entire shower crying again.

My schedule for the remaining time in Seattle was busy. I had lunch with Mom and Ray—Bob hadn't been able to get time off work. I had dinner with Kate, during which I told her everything, we had several drinks, and plotted our revenge on Christian's mistress. I let out seven months' worth of anger and hurt and frustrations during that dinner, and when I went back to the house, I didn't even let Christian's disapproval over my blatant drunkenness break my mood. He didn't say anything about it aloud—he finally seems to have realized he's lost his right to disapprove of anything I do.

I'm heading up to my room for a shower before bed as Christian calls my name. I turn around a little too suddenly and he's immediately in front of me to keep me steady in my dizzy state. "Are you okay?" he asks concernedly, his hands on my shoulder.

I nod. "Fine," I say tightly, pulling out of his grasp. I watch as his arms drop lamely to his sides. "Thank you for watching Teddy while Kate and I went out."

"You don't have to thank me, Anastasia," he says warily, running his hands through his hair. "I'm his father, it's my job."

I carefully bite my tongue. Apparently the liquor I took in at dinner has the ability to let things slip through my mind's filter and the last thing I want is to start a fight with him right now. "Was there something you wanted?" I'm trying desperately not to slur my words, but I know my attempts are futile.

Christian sighs and backs away a little. "I just wanted to tell you I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Before you and Teddy."

I blink at him in surprise. "What? Why?" I ask, surprised at my surprise. Apparently surprise is my drunken word of the day.

"I've got some meetings to tend to before I go to Germany," he explains apologetically. "I tried to move things around so I could spend some more time with you, but since I've basically taken the last month off, I couldn't get out of them."

"It's fine," I tell him. "We have an early flight anyway."

Christian nods. "Listen, Ana, I realize we haven't really fixed anything yet, but I don't want to wait another seven months to see you. After my meeting in Germany, do you think it would be all right if I came to see you and Teddy in London?" The look on his face is so hopeful that I can't possibly say no to him. At least not to this request.

"I think that will be fine," I tell him.

For the first time in I don't remember how long, he graces me with a real Christian Grey genuine smile. "Thank you," he says in relief.

I return his smile. "Is Teddy in bed yet?" I ask, continuing up the stairs again.

"No," Christian replies, following my footsteps. "He's playing right now. I was going to get him in the bath soon, then read him a bedtime story..."

"Would you mind holding story time for when I get out of the shower?" I ask.

Christian is smiling again. "Of course not," he says softly. "You know where to find us."

As I gather my clothes for my shower, I feel eyes on me and I leave my room to find Christian standing in the threshold of Teddy's bedroom, watching me with a slightly glazed expression. He blinks himself back to the present, shooting me his shy smile as I make my way towards the bathroom. I have to admit it makes me feel pretty fucking good to know even after all this I still appear to have some effect on Christian.

I take my shower, feeling myself sobering up enough that I can face my son without embarrassing myself, then dress in my pajamas and a sweatshirt before going to find my husband and son. They're both already in Teddy's bed. Christian is talking quietly and at first, I think he's started story time without me, but as I get a little nearer to the door, I realize what's going on and I feel my heart sinking.

"But I don't want to go, Daddy," Teddy says shakily, and I know he's crying.

Christian sighs. "I know, baby boy," he replies. "I don't want you to either, but you have to for now."

"Why, though?" Teddy's voice is muffled and I know he's got his little face pressed against his father's chest.

"Because your mommy needs you," Christian explains gently. "She needs you to take care of her and protect her and love her. She needs you to be strong right now. Do you understand?"

Teddy doesn't respond audibly, but he's probably nodding, even though he probably has no idea why he's nodding. All he knows is that when Daddy asks a question, he has to answer. It's heartbreaking. "Why can't we live here with you?"

I'm holding my breath now, my eyes wide as I wonder how Christian is going to answer this one. I almost want to put him out of his misery and go in there and pretend for a few minutes that everything is just dandy while we tuck our son into bed. I don't, of course; I'm curious about his answer and feeling a little vindictive.

"Well," Christian says heavily, "that's hard to explain, Teddy. Daddy did something very bad, something that upset Mommy enough that she can't live with me."

"What did you do?" Teddy asks almost accusingly.

I can practically hear the cogs turning in Christian's mind as they scrape around for a suitable answer.

"I hurt your mommy's heart," Christian eventually says, his voice cracking. "I made her very sad and upset and angry with me."

"Did you say sorry?" Oh the innocence of children. Everything is in black and white; if you do something to hurt someone or make them sad, you say you're sorry and all is forgiven.

A soft huff of laughter tells me Christian is thinking the same thing. "Yes, I said I'm sorry. But I still have to work very hard to make Mommy forgive me. It's going to take a lot of time, and in that time, you and Mommy are going to live in London. I promise, though, Teddy, that if there is any way I can get Mommy to forgive me, I will do it, because I love you both very, _very_ much and I want you to come home to me."

I feel the tears trailing down my face as I fight to hold back a sob. This is probably the first time since I've been back in Seattle that I've heard Christian sound as though he really understands what he's done, not just to me, but to his son as well. He's finally realizing his actions have consequences and those consequences affect everyone. I wait until I've got my emotions under control and wipe away my tears, knowing there's no way I can hide my red eyes, and head into my son's bedroom. Teddy is over at his bookshelf selecting a book for story time, while Christian watches him with such devastation that I can't decide if I want to hold him, shake him, or run from him.

He looks up when I step into the room, and immediately his expression changes to something wearier, and I know he knows I heard his conversation with Teddy. "How was your shower?" he asks hoarsely.

"It was good," I respond, smiling for Teddy's benefit. Teddy has selected his book and puts it on the bed before rushing over to hug me around the knees.

"Love you, Mommy," he says quietly, looking up at me with his big blue eyes.

I feel the tears again, but manage to fight them back as I reach down to take my son in my arms for a hug. "I love you, too, baby boy," I whisper into his copper curls. I glance at Christian and find his face full of longing as he watches our embrace. After a couple moments, I carry Teddy over to the bed and sit him down between Christian and myself. "Ready for your story?"

Teddy nods eagerly, handing the book over to Christian. It's a known fact in the Grey household that Christian is the better storyteller of the two of us. Apparently the voices he uses for the characters are more accurate and believable to our son's ears. Personally, I think it's just because Teddy is a Daddy's Boy and nobody else could ever match up.

Christian is smirking as he settles back against the pillows. I pull Teddy into my arms, letting him snuggle into my chest while we listen to Christian reading. I have no idea what book he's narrating; I'm concentrating on the gentle, comforting rumble of his voice and before I know it, I'm being gently shaken awake.

My eyes blink open to find Christian standing over me, smiling slightly. Glancing over, Teddy is curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep. I get out of bed and follow Christian out of the room.

"Too sleepy for a nightcap?" he asks at the top of the stairs. "I've still got a bit of work to do before my trip tomorrow, so if you're tired..."

I shake my head, needing to make the most of the time Christian and I have together. "No, I'm okay," I say quickly.

He looks at me as though he's looking through to my very soul. Or what's left of it after he stomped on it along with my heart. I follow him down through the house and into the kitchen where he gestures for me to take a seat at the bar and busies himself with pouring us some wine and digging out some cheese and crackers. His intentions are clear: he knows I've been drinking and he's not going to let me get away with drinking more on an empty stomach. I'm slightly tempted to refuse the food on principle, but it actually looks appetizing and I don't feel like spending my last evening in Seattle hugging the toilet.

"Did you have a good time with Kate?" he ventures cautiously.

I nod as I chew and swallow. "I did," I confirm. "Incidentally, I would avoid her for a while if I were you. She worked out what happened between us and she's on the hunt for blood."

"Of course she did," he grumbles wryly. "Grace knows, too. She dropped by while you were out today and told me in no uncertain terms how disappointed she is in me and how if I ever do manage to get you back it'll be nothing short of a miracle. Surprisingly, I agree with her."

I'm not entirely sure how to respond to this so I don't. I'm curious as to how Grace worked out the details—I know Kate wouldn't be blabbing it around, not even to the family—but I realize it doesn't really matter when it comes down to it.

"She also told me she owes you one hell of an apology for thinking you abandoned me and took our son to a different country," he continues. "Don't be surprised if you get a call from her before you leave tomorrow."

I nod again, though this time I'm not eating. I've known all along the Greys believed I packed up and left because Christian and I were having so many arguments. It's actually a relief that Grace knows the truth; at least now she doesn't think I'm the one who destroyed our marriage...

My evening with Kate reminded me of several more questions I had for Christian that I want answered before I leave. "Can I ask you something?" I begin softly, tracing a finger along the rim of my wine glass. I look up and find Christian's gaze locked on my finger, his eyes dark. There is no doubt in my mind what is going through his, and I have to admit, it's tempting until the image of me lying naked beneath Christian's amazingly fit body changes to me standing beside the bed, watching Christian lying atop Lucy. Suddenly, my appetite is gone and I feel nauseas.

"Of course," Christian responds huskily, swallowing visibly. A moment later, his face is reverted to the expressionless mask he wears when he's angry or nervous. I know in this instance it's the latter.

"Why did you wait two months to break things off with Lucy?"

Christian blinks at me several times in surprise. Clearly this is not what he expected me to ask. "Um, I don't know," he replies, his brow furrowing in thought. "I think it just took that long for me to realize what I'd done and that you weren't coming back. I couldn't face her knowing how much you were hurting."

"She never tried to contact you?" I ask steadily.

He shrugs. "She did. She called, texted, emailed... Even tried to drop by GEH a few times. Security managed to head her off every time to avoid making a scene. At one point she actually tried to blackmail me into seeing her by telling me she would go to the press about the affair. I called her bluff, told her to do it. Honestly, Ana, at that point I think I might have welcomed that. I just didn't fucking care about anything anymore. It's taken me far too long to realize that without you, none of the rest of it matters—not my reputation, not my business..."

"What changed?" I ask softly.

"I don't know," he says again, this time thoughtfully as though he's trying to figure it out for himself. "I woke up one morning and realized life has to go on. I felt empty and I knew I'd never be the same again, but I had to do whatever I could to get my life back on track. Especially if I ever hoped to get you back. So I went back to work, settled things there and with my family, then went to tell Lucy I was done. Like I told you before, she was less than pleased, but eventually the pleading calls, texts, and emails all stopped, and I haven't heard a peep from her in months."

I can't help but feel slightly uneasy about Lucy just giving up on Christian. I can't imagine _anyone_ giving up on him. Hell, _I_ can't even give up on him. Lucy had a five month affair with him and if I'm right about the nature of the relationship, she was the only person aside from me who's seen the other side of Christian Grey, the loving, sweet, funny, shy side. The moment I saw that side of him, I became his completely and I know if Christian had given some other woman before me what he had given me, I never would have had a chance of being his—that woman would have known exactly what she had and would have fought tooth and nail to keep him.

For the first time since all this began, I start to see Lucy as real competition. She wanted—or possibly _still_ wants—what I had with Christian. And from what I've learned so far about the affair, Christian was almost willing to give it to her. He told me flat out he'd briefly considered leaving me for her. The affair was bad enough, but the thought that if I hadn't found out about it, Christian might have come home one evening, handed me divorce papers, and left me to be with her is absolutely devastating.

God, I hate feeling like this.

"Ana?"

I look up suddenly for the floor, wondering when I started crying, and hastily wipe my eyes to find Christian standing just in front of me looking torn. "Yes?" I ask weakly.

He opens his mouth, poised to speak, but can't quite find his words. Eventually he shakes his head and shuts his mouth, and we spend several minutes just staring at each other. I know what I _want_ to happen: I want him to take me in his arms, kiss me like his life depends on it, then carry me to our bed and make love to me until we both forget our troubles. I know Christian wants the same thing, but he won't make the first move, I realize suddenly. He's afraid. He's abiding by my wishes for a change. He doesn't want to be rejected anymore. Despite knowing how much we both want the same thing, I make no move to do anything about it. It's too soon, for both of us, and there is no doubt in my mind that if we did end up falling into bed together, I would wake up in the morning feeling worse than ever.

"You should get some sleep," Christian whispers, tentatively reaching out a hand to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. When he finishes, his knuckles graze my cheek before he withdraws his touch completely, leaving me feeling sad and miserable again. "You've got an early flight and you're going to want to sleep off some of that alcohol."

For once, I agree wholeheartedly with him. I nod, finishing off my wine before sliding off the stool. Christian backs away enough to give me some room, though still close enough to grab me in case my legs don't feel steady enough to keep me upright. Another few awkward moments pass by as I struggle to find something to say. "Well, have a good flight," I finally manage. "And a good trip. Thank you for this weekend and for keeping Teddy this month. I know it's meant the world to him."

"It's been my pleasure," he replies softly, sincerely. "I'll contact you when I know when I'll be finished in Berlin and we can work out the details about the visit."

I nod dumbly. "Sounds good," I reply.

Shutting of the house lights, Christian walks me up to my room, but we both hesitate before I go inside. I am aching to have his arms around me, but I don't know if I can control myself enough to just leave it at that, nor do I know whether he'll let me go before things go too far.

 _Fuck it..._

I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing myself against him. After a few shocked seconds, I feel his arms close around me, securing me in the one place I once felt safest. Everything rushes back to me—the solid feel of chest, the comforting scent of body wash and Christian, the steady beat of his heart. I feel him rest his cheek on top of my head and a wave of calm washes over me as I commit every sensation to memory, not knowing when I'll have this again, or if I ever will.

Eventually, both of us reluctantly pull away. I can see the aching and the pain in his eyes as he leans forward to rest his lips against my forehead.

"I love you, Anastasia," he breathes against my skin. "And I will prove it to you."

I think I nod, but he whispers a goodnight, then turns and makes his way down the hall to the guest bedroom where he disappears through the door. With a heavy sigh, I enter my own room, fall into bed, and somehow manage to fall asleep within minutes.


	8. Chapter 8

When I wake up the next morning, I get out of bed with a heavy heart. I'm both looking forward to and dreading our return to London, but I know it's for the best. Christian and I may have gotten over a few of the smaller hurdles keeping us apart, but there is still so much more to deal with. Though he says repeatedly that he's sorry and that he loves me and that he misses me, I still can't fully believe he understands. Just the fact that he admitted part of what he regretted was being caught proves it hasn't really sunken in yet. I think handing him the separation agreement—which I still haven't seen even a corner of since the night I gave it to him—might have managed to make a bit of a dent in his thick skull; I just hope realizing Teddy and I are returning to London without him might remind him of what he's lost.

Teddy isn't in his room when I go to wake him, but I can hear a faint giggle somewhere in the house which tells me he's probably sitting at the breakfast bar with Gail. With a smile, I dress and make my way downstairs, indeed finding my son where I believed he might be lingering.

"Ana!" Gail greets happily, coming out from behind the bar to give me a hug. I return it gratefully, only now realizing how much I've missed her. There have been so many times over the years when Gail was the only thing I had to keep my sanity when Christian was on a business trip or we were fighting and Gail managed to distract my mind or just be there to listen. She's become a friend over the years and it saddens me that I only have a few hours before my flight to catch up with her.

"It's good to see you, Gail," I say honestly when she releases me. At her gesture, I sit at the bar beside Teddy and she makes me a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

Over breakfast, we chat. She tells me about how Sophie is doing in school. I tell her about London. We're both skating over the real issues. I have no idea whether Gail knew about Christian's affair—I know Taylor did—but I can't imagine she would have kept something like that from me, regardless of the fact that Christian employs her. In all honesty, I can't really blame Taylor for keeping the affair from me. I would have hoped he would've given me some sort of warning, but when it comes down to it, he is Christian's man through and through. Besides, it was Christian who betrayed me, not Taylor.

After breakfast, Gail ignores my attempts to help her clean up and I finally give up in favor of packing. I help Teddy first, gathering all the things he took with him along with everything Christian or the rest of the family bought him—clothes, toys, books. I swear this kid is the most spoiled one on the planet. I only hope that when he gets older it doesn't turn him into an entitled little brat. Once we're finished in Teddy's room, I let him get in a few last minutes with the rest of the toys he's leaving behind and head into the guest room. I've managed to keep most of my clothing and other belongings rather contained, so once I've rounded it all up, I put my suitcase on the bed and open it.

My brow furrows at the sight of a folder sitting atop the rest of my things and I immediately know what it is: the separation agreement. Clearly Christian has been in here; I try not to wonder whether he's been going through my things as well. Shaking my head, I reflexively reach down to open the folder. I gasp when I find Christian's signature on every page right beside mine. He actually signed it... I have no idea when he did this or why he didn't mention it to me.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, my feelings confused. On the one hand, I'm relieved that he listened and abided to my wishes, but on the other hand, I can't help thinking this is the very beginning of goodbye. I still haven't decided whether I'm going to file the papers when I return to London—I'm leaning towards holding onto them for a while to give Christian the chance to prove himself to me.

Several minutes go by with me doing nothing other than staring at my husband's signature before I finally shake myself out of my thoughts. I place the folder back into the suitcase as though it's a bomb that might go off with the slightest mishandling then proceed to finish my packing.

Before I know it, it's time to leave for the plane. To my surprise, Taylor is waiting for us in the foyer, leaning against the wall while he and Gail talk quietly. It doesn't take much to determine the subject of conversation; the moment they realize Teddy and I have arrived, they break off their whispers and smile tightly at us. I pretend not to notice.

"I thought you would have gone with Christian," I say to Taylor as he takes Teddy's little backpack and suitcase.

"He asked me to see that you and Teddy got onto the plane safely," Taylor explains.

 _Of course he did..._

We say our goodbyes to Gail, Taylor loads our luggage, and we're on our way. As we drive, I can feel Teddy growing more distant and sad. I want to say something to make him feel better, but I know it's no use right now. Besides, I'm sad to be leaving as well, but I also know the chances are high that we'll be seeing Christian again soon. This is the last thing I want to tell my son right now, though; nothing is set in stone as of right now and plans change. I don't want Teddy to get his hopes up that he'll be seeing his father just to find out Christian couldn't make it for any number of reasons.

We fly all day. Teddy spends most of the time cuddling in my lap rather than playing on the plane like he normally would. I do my best to comfort him and eventually I feel him relaxing a little, and by the time we touchdown in London, he's talking and smiling again. I remind him about the new apartment and his eyes light up, making me smile. I've got my boy back.

Teddy is practically quivering in excitement as we pull up to our new home and bouncing through the halls. I can't help but wonder how children maintain such levels of energy when I'm ready to collapse into my bed and sleep for the next twelve hours. Regardless, my own energy level picks up a little when Teddy looks around the new apartment. Compared to the other place, it's a castle. He's immediately taken with the view outside the balcony door, until I direct his attention to his new bedroom which contains a brand-new bed, a toy box full of stuff to keep him occupied, a desk, and a bookshelf stuffed with books. One of the few things Teddy inherited from me was his love of reading. True, he can't actually read yet, but I see it coming very soon.

When he finally starts to wind down, I announce it's bath time, then bedtime. Surprisingly, he agrees immediately which proves to me traveling has managed to exhaust him. I tuck him into bed and remind him that tomorrow is his first day of school. I'm looking forward to getting us into a more normal routine—he goes to school, I go to work, we're both keeping busy, and we're both happy.

In my room, I start to unpack my clothes, locating the folder containing the separation agreement. Sighing, I sit down and flip through the pages detailing all the different points—custody, alimony, child support. I've no doubt in my mind that if Christian and I do end up divorcing, I'll never have to worry about how I'll support our son. Christian will make absolutely certain we are taken care of. Teddy will have only the best schooling from now until he's out of college. It won't matter if I end up remarrying; Christian will never turn his back on either of us.

 _He did turn his back on you, though; every time he walked out the front door to go see Lucy, he was turning his back on you, your son, and your marriage._

Swiping at my eyes, I toss the folder on my dresser and commence unpacking. It's nearly midnight when I finish and I'm wide awake, probably because of the drastic time difference between here and Seattle. Whatever it is, I'm feeling restless and decide a glass of wine and late night snack are in order. I grab my laptop and head out into the kitchen, determined to catch up on a little work before it's time to return. I get my glass of wine and sit at the breakfast bar as I open my email application, and my heart flops a little, though I can't say I'm all that surprised, when I see an email from Christian.

* * *

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** This weekend

 **To:** Anastasia Grey

Ana,

First I just want to thank you for coming to Seattle, however short the visit may have been. I can't possibly describe how wonder if was seeing you. I know I'm not deserving of it, but no matter what happens, I will never _not_ worry about you.

I've been thinking over all the things we talked about while you visited and have come to the conclusion that if you manage to leave without hating every fiber of my being, it'll be a fucking miracle. Between Elena, Lucy, and all the shit I've put you through over the years it's a wonder you're even still considering speaking to me about any possibility of our reconciliation. I know if the roles had been reversed and you had been the one to have the affair, I would have been absolutely shattered.

I owe you so many apologies that I don't even know where to begin. I've already apologized for Lucy so many times, but I will never be able to resolve this with words. As for Elena... I have no excuses for that, but you at least deserve the truth: We met several times for lunch or dinner. It began with an attempt from her to rekindle our business relationship. At first, I resisted her efforts, but as time went on, she became more insistent until I caved and agreed to meet her for a quick lunch. From there, we set up a few more lunches to discuss a new salon chain she wished to open with me as a silent partner. I tried to keep the meetings professional, only talking about the business, but as you and I were beginning to drift apart, I found myself confiding in her, however wrong it was.

I could sit here and tell you I had a moment of weakness that afternoon and Elena pounced on it, but that's a lie: I needed someone to talk to. I didn't feel I could come to you without starting another fight, which seemed to have become the norm for us, and I didn't want to listen to Flynn's clinical diagnosis bullshit anymore. Every time we met, we talked, and she was a sympathetic ear at first. I probably should have seen what she was doing from the onset, but I was too distracted with the state of my marriage to really give a shit. Elena started in on you, telling me she'd known all along you'd never be what I needed you to be and that you were dragging me down. The first couple times she tried that, I got pissed off, told her to mind her own fucking business, and left. I have no idea when things started to change, but gradually, I started listening to what she was saying. I was still convinced that you and I could fix whatever was wrong between us, but I saw you pulling farther and farther away from me and I didn't understand why. I let Elena in my head. I could probably tell you it was because of Elena that I started up with Lucy, but I know I only have myself to blame. Elena probably didn't help matters, but it certainly wasn't at her urging that I have an affair with Lucy.

Next, I need to address some of the things you mentioned about how I treated you throughout our marriage. Ana, I _never_ intended to make you feel like you had no independence. Of course I realize that there are times when I come across as overbearing and over-protective, and there are probably better ways for me to communicate this with you. I also realize how often I contradicted myself by giving you the freedom to run Grey Publishing, then in the next breath trying to forbid you from working. I wanted you to have everything you needed or wanted, including the family we dreamed about, but at the same time, I wanted everything in my control and on my terms. I was wrong. And I'm beyond sorry.

Your self-confidence... God, Ana, I can't even begin to apologize for the things I've said and done to you over the years, or the fact that I never realized what it was doing to you. I suppose I always saw you as confident in all things, the way you were when we first met, and I couldn't imagine that ever changing. You deserve so much more than putting up with my patronization and treating you as anything less than the wife I love more than anything in the world. As I said before, it's a miracle that you're even still speaking to me at all.

Lastly, you can't imagine the horror and self-loathing I'm filled with at the thought that you believe your sole purpose in life is for my sexual gratification and that I didn't care about you outside of the bedroom. This is so far from the truth, Ana. I certainly understand why you feel that way, and again, it's my fault. I'm not going to lie: I loved our sex life and everything that went with it. I wanted you all day every day wherever I could get you. I still do. For so long I dedicated myself to your happiness, both within and out of the bedroom, and for a while, I think I was succeeding. As our relationship began to deteriorate, I lost sight of that and the only way I could show you how much I loved you was in the bedroom. It's no excuse, I know that. I just want you to understand that it was _never_ my intention to make you feel like a submissive or that you were unworthy of love and affection. I will do whatever it takes to prove this to you.

I'm sure you discovered by now that I've signed the separation agreement you gave me. Please don't think this is by any means my way of giving up on you. I will _never_ give up on you, Ana Grey. I just want to show you I'm determined to give you the happiness you want, despite the possibility that it may result from our parting of the ways. I want you to be able to live your life and discover yourself the way I was able to after I left Harvard. As for your revelation about having met somebody... I certainly won't be pretending that I'm happy about the thought of you with somebody else and I don't think I ever will be, but considering what I've put you through, I have no real say in what you do or how you live your life anymore. All I ask is that you're careful. I can't stomach the thought of something happening to you or Teddy when you're both so far away from me. And if anybody harms either of you, I will not hesitate in hunting them down and ripping them apart with my bare fucking hands.

It looks as though I'll be finished here in Berlin at the end of the week, so I should be able to visit the two of you in London by Friday evening or early Saturday, if you still want to see me. I'll let you know for certain when I have a more concrete idea of how things will go. In the meantime, take care of yourself and our son. You know how to reach me if you need absolutely anything and I will be at your side in a matter of hours, no matter what I'm doing.

I love you, Ana, and nothing will ever change that.

Yours,

Christian

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

* * *

I'm left staring dumbly and open-mouthed at my computer screen. I can't remember the last time Christian wrote this much in an email, nor can I remember the last time he was this honest with me. The new information with Elena certainly stings quite a bit, especially the fact that he felt he needed to go to the Bitch Troll for a listening ear as opposed to me. I may have been pissed off with him more times than I can count, but I never wanted to stop working on our marriage. While Christian has never been the most forthcoming man on the planet about his troubles, often preferring to bottle it all up and apply his stress, anger, and frustration to his business ventures or sessions with Claude or Flynn, I really believed he'd gotten to a point where he could sit down with me and talk things out. Apparently I was wrong.

I wonder vaguely if he's still seeing Flynn and add that to my list of questions to ask him when he visits.

As for the rest of his email... I'm not entirely certain how to feel about most of it. He's touched on everything that has been bothering me for years and it seems like he understands what I was going through, but I honestly don't know whether I can trust it. Christian has a habit of making improvements both to himself and to our marriage and for the short time those improvements last, life is great. At some point, though, he reverts back to the way things were before. I can't keep putting myself through that, all the ups and downs. It was killing me slowly while I was still with him, and I know if I lower my defenses and let him back to my life only for him to do the same thing again, it will absolutely destroy me.

The longer I'm away from Christian and our marriage, the stronger and more confident I'm feeling. I know I can make a life for myself and Teddy, whether Christian believes it or not. I have to be able to spread my wings rather than being kept in Christian Grey's gilded cage.

I'm certainly relieved that he's acknowledged the idea of my possibly pursuing a romantic relationship with somebody else. I know he won't be happy if I end up with another man. It will kill him. But he has to realize just how badly he fucked up. Telling him doesn't work; Christian reacts better to seeing things as they are. If he sees me with another man, he'll finally understand he's done something to really and truly lose me. He wants to believe that I'm his and only his; that nothing can come between us. I want him to realize I'm not there just to reassure him that life is exactly how he believes it to be.

I only hope he figures it out before it's too late and he loses me for good.

* * *

As I sit in my hotel room, staring at the spreadsheets on my laptop and the numbers that are starting to run together, my thoughts are with my wife and son. I've gotten reports that they've landed safely in London and made it home without an issue. I can't say I'm overly surprised that Ana hasn't responded to my email—either she hasn't read it yet or she's too tired to formulate a proper response. Actually, I'm not really expecting one. Everything I wrote to her was long overdue, things I should have been saying to her all along. If I had, we wouldn't be in this mess.

My decision to sign the separation agreement was one of the most difficult ones I've made. I don't want to give up the chance to get her back, but I'm starting to realize her happiness is more important to me than my own. I've spent most of my life being an incredibly selfish bastard when it comes to my personal life. If I want a life with Anastasia and Teddy, I have to change my ways. If I don't, she'll find what she needs and wants with somebody else.

Just the thought of some fucker's hands on her makes my blood boil. I'm thrown back to the night she drunk-dialed me to interrogate me about why I sent her those books and how when I went to the bar where she and her friends were busy getting shitfaced, I found her in the arms of José fucking Rodriguez. I could have killed that bastard that night, especially when I saw how desperate Ana was to get away from his and his advances. I can only wonder what it would have felt like if she had willingly given in to his kiss. It would have killed me, even if at the time I'd wanted nothing more than to make her my submissive. She had an effect on me from the first moment she fell through my office door, and if I'd let her get away then, I'd have spent the rest of my life wondering about the what-ifs.

Now I wonder if it would have been better to let her go when I had the chance. How much time had I spent arguing with myself about that very thing? As much as I despised the boy for desiring what was so clearly mine, he could have given her a life where she received the treatment she so deserves. There wouldn't be the threat of former subs or Elena or punishments, or any of the other million and one things that come along with my life. She was a good person back then—fuck, she's still a good person, better than I'll ever be—and she doesn't deserve my horrendous treatment of her.

 _Maybe you'll get lucky and she'll try out a relationship with someone else, then realize she can't live without you._

That's certainly a tempting thought. The only problem is that she'll have to be with somebody else, in somebody else's arms, in somebody else's bed for her to come to that realization. And I'll have to sit, watching from afar and waiting for her to come back to me. What if she never does? What if she finds somebody who'll give her everything I can give her without the heartache? I'll lose her forever and spend my life alone.

I slam shut the lid of my laptop and stand, pacing the room and running my hands through my hair in frustration. How much more of this can I take?

Just as I'm coming to the decision of going to bed, there's a knock on my door. I stare at the door for several moments. It's nearly three in the morning and I haven't ordered room service since dinner. The only reason for someone to be here now that I can deduce is that it's a member of my security team to tell me something has happened to my wife or son. Panic sets in immediately and I stride to the door without another thought, wrenching it open with enough force that I could have pulled it off the hinges. Panic relaxes into confusion, then into shock at the person at my door, standing there as innocently as if I'd invited her up.

"Hello, Christian," she says quietly, smiling slyly.

The blood freezes in my veins. "Lucy," I whisper. This is not good.

* * *

The next morning starts out hectic. I only managed a few hours of sleep after reading Christian's email, and even those few hours were punctuated with dreams of Christian and me standing across from one another in a room, smiling at one another. As we start to close the distance between us, Elena and Lucy are suddenly there, blocking my way. I'm trying to fight my way past them, but Christian is just standing there, looking between the three of us uncertainly. I suppose that's a pretty fair summation of things right now: I've done all the fighting for our relationship, but there's always something that comes between my husband and myself, and he doesn't seem all that bothered to fight for us. He says he wants me back, that he misses me and loves me, but at the end of the day, I feel like he only wants our relationship because it's convenient.

So after my shower, during which I cried most of the time, I dress, rouse my son, make us some breakfast, and set off for our day. By the time I get Teddy to school, I'm running late to work. I kiss him, hug him, and tell him I'll see him after school then run off to catch the bus to Canton Publishing. I somehow manage to arrive with ten minutes to spare and I'm relieved; I've only actually been employed here a little over a week and I was already allowed to take time for a vacation, so I'm determined to prove myself to my colleagues.

I'm at my desk a grand total of five minutes when Thomas walks through the door. I look up at him, smiling in greeting. When he smiles back, I'm surprised at the flip my heart seems to do. "Good morning, Thomas," I say brightly, sitting down behind my desk.

"Good morning, Ana," he responds, resting his briefcase on my desk to chat. "How was your time in Seattle?"

I hesitate. In the short time that I've known him, I've filled him in on why Christian and I were separated, but I'm not sure if I really want to get into the gritty details right now, especially at work. I settle for the more diplomatic reply. "It was nice. I got to see my family, catch up a little..."

He nods thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. Before he speaks next, he throws a glance over his shoulder as though checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. They aren't. "Listen, Ana, I was wondering... I know you're going through a rough time right now with your husband, but I was wondering if you might want to go out some time. Nothing fancy," he adds hastily. "Just dinner and a film, maybe."

I know I'm staring at him like a deer in headlights, but I can't help it. Immediately, I recall Christian's email this morning and I'm suddenly feeling a little more comfortable in my skin. I hear myself agreeing, and I see Thomas's answering grin of relief, then hear him telling me we'll iron out the details later on before he disappears into his office.

The door shuts quietly behind him, leaving me to stare at it. What the hell did I just agree to?


	9. Chapter 9

On Wednesday evening, I'm in my bathroom getting ready for my date with Thomas. I pause for a moment. Is this really a date? When we spoke about it, he made it sound like a nice, casual outing between two friends. Do I want it to be a date? The only person I've ever really dated is Christian, as brief as that courtship was. I suppose it can't hurt to label it a date initially and wait to see what happens. Besides, it's not as though we'll be completely alone all evening; I had a bit of trouble finding a babysitter for Teddy, mostly because I don't know anybody locally and some of Christian's overprotective paranoia seems to have rubbed off on me, so we'll be bringing him along. Thomas was surprisingly okay with me bringing my son along and even suggested found us a nice little family restaurant where Teddy could play all sorts of arcade games after we eat to give Thomas and me the chance to talk.

It hits me suddenly as I finish applying my makeup that Christian and I never took Teddy to places like this back home. Christian always scoffed at the very idea, deeming them below standard for Christian Grey and his family. Kate and I took Teddy and Ava to a place similar to the one we're headed for tonight last year and the kids had an absolute blast. They're both still way too young to be put off by inexpensive entertainment and they don't yet understand the level of wealth they were born into compared to the majority of other children they may come into contact with. If I have my way, Teddy never will be fully aware of just how wealthy his father is; we've managed to keep him from becoming a spoiled little brat and I intend to keep it that way.

Christian sent me an email this morning to let me know he would be wrapping up his business in Germany on Friday morning and to ask if I was still okay about him visiting for a couple days. I immediately replied, telling him Teddy and I would love to have him, though I didn't invite him to stay with us. He mentioned something while I was in Seattle about getting a hotel room while he was in town, and if he's still considering that as an option, I'm not going to fight it. It was one thing for me to stay in our home in Seattle last weekend—I'd lived there for years beforehand—but I'm uncertain whether it's a good idea for him to stay with us here at the new apartment.

Just as I'm tying Teddy's shoes, I hear a knock on the door and butterflies seem to fill my stomach with excitement and anxiety.

"Wait here, baby boy," I tell Teddy, standing up and heading for the door. When I open it, I find Thomas standing there wearing a simple outfit of khaki pants and sweater, and he's smiling widely.

"Hello," he says quietly, his eyes sparkling as he roves them over me. Suddenly I'm feeling very self-conscious. He pulls one hand from behind his back and produces a beautiful little bouquet of flowers. "I picked these up for you on the way. They're not much, but..." He shrugs, then smiles as I take them from him.

"They're beautiful," I tell him honestly. "Please come in." I step back to allow him entry in the apartment before closing the door and heading into the kitchen to place my flowers in a vase. When I go to rejoin him, I find him in the living room on the floor with Teddy as they watch some cartoon or another. I'm a little surprised that my son is talking freely with Thomas; he's usually very shy with strangers, men especially. I think it's yet another trait he's inherited from his father: suspicion of any man who seems at all eager to get to know me better. Though I seriously doubt Teddy understands _why_ he does this, or that he does it for the same reasons as Christian.

It seems, though, Teddy has already taken quite the liking to Thomas, and I'm not certain whether this is a good thing or bad.

 _Well, of course it's a good thing, stupid girl!_ My subconscious is already rolling her eyes at me. _You don't want a relationship with somebody your son hates, or that hates children!_

That's true enough.

Teddy finally realizes I'm in the room and quickly twists around, beaming at me. "Mommy, look! Mr. Thomas gave me a car!"

I look at my son's left hand, and indeed he's holding some sort of little blue sports car. "Well, wasn't that nice of him!" I gush. "Did you say thank you?"

Teddy nods. "Yes, ma'am."

I'm rather moved that Thomas went to the trouble of buying my son a toy, whereas most men might scoff at the very idea. It isn't my son he's looking for a relationship with, after all. Shooting Thomas another smile, I reach for my jacket that's hanging over the back of a chair. "Well, are we ready?"

* * *

Dinner is surprisingly delicious. In a place like this, one would expect food that is of a lower quality than most other places, only tasty enough to get past a child's un-picky palate, but it seems this restaurant has worked to appeal to the tastes of parents as well as children. So while Thomas and I enjoy salads and chicken breasts, Teddy sits across from us eating two tiny cheeseburgers and french fries—the latter caused a moment of entertainment for both the waitress and Thomas when I failed to recall the British term for french fries is actually chips.

When he finishes his meal, Teddy is already asking to go play games. I agree and reach into my purse for money for him to get the little tokens he needs, but Thomas is one step ahead of me. I gape at the cup of tokens he produces from the floor. "When did you do that?" I ask slightly indignantly, but mostly amused.

Thomas shrugs. "I like to come prepared," he says flippantly as he hands the tokens to Teddy. "Have fun, little man!"

"Thanks!" Teddy is already halfway across the room as he says the word.

"Stay where I can see you!" I call to him, sitting back in my chair to gaze at Thomas. He's smirking. "That really wasn't necessary."

"Of course it was," Thomas replies. "I believe I was the one who asked you out to dinner, and by proxy, your son; it's the least I can do. Besides, this way we have a bit of time to chat privately."

I can't fault his logic.

The next hour or so passes enjoyably. Thomas and I are talking and laughing as though we've known each other for years as opposed to weeks. He's very eager to hear about my life growing up with my mom and Ray. I carefully skate across the third husband, but tell him about Bob. In turn, he tells me about his family, his siblings and parents, and the holidays they've taken all over the world together. Teddy eventually comes back to finish off his cheeseburger, then to drag us off to the games to help him win more tickets for prizes.

All in all, it's a wonderful evening, and I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. It occurs to me once or twice that it should be Christian here with us— _Christian_ should be holding Teddy up by the waist as he throws a basketball in the hoop; _Christian_ should be the one teaching Teddy to play Whack-a-Mole; _Christian_ should be praising Teddy's skills at all the different videogames. It kills me that my son's father isn't here to share in our fun, but I remind myself it's by his own doing that he isn't.

 _Damn you, Christian_ , I think to myself, hastily wiping the couple of tears that fall from my eyes before Teddy or Thomas has a chance to see them.

By the time we call it a night, Teddy has won enough tickets to pick out several things from the little prize stand: a giant plastic slinky, a stuffed dragon, some sort of silly putty that makes interesting noises if you press it just right, and a pair of giant novelty sunglasses. Again, these are things Christian would scoff at—why would _his son_ settle for such cheap toys when he can have the most expensive ones imaginable?

We arrive back at the apartment building and Teddy is fast asleep. I take his toys and Thomas offers to carry him up to the apartment—I don't protest. I get Teddy changed into his pajamas and tuck him in, kissing his little forehead before leaving the room to join Thomas, who is standing at the wall in the living room, gazing at a collection of photographs I've hung of my family. My favorite of the bunch is in the center and it was taken at Teddy's first birthday party. Christian and I are sitting on our back patio with our son sharing our laps, his face covered in birthday cake. All three of us are beaming, looking more carefree than I can ever remember us being.

"Handsome family you have there," Thomas comments.

I nod in response, heading towards the kitchen to make us some tea. "Yes, it is," I reply lightly, trying not to let my sadness at the old memories get the better of me. "That was a wonderful day."

I busy myself with making our tea and when I turn around, I find Thomas leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking at me thoughtfully. "What?" I ask, feeling a blush creeping up my neck.

He smiles, pushing himself off the wall. "Nothing," he says lightly. "Just I think I may have forgotten my manners this evening and failed to inform you that you look lovely."

Yup, definitely blushing. "Thank you," I say shyly, smiling back at him. "You don't look half bad yourself."

He snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes. "No need to lie. I doubt I'll ever live to be as good-looking as your husband." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the photograph.

"He certainly has his charms," I agree wryly. "But as he's told me a number of times throughout our marriage, it's only a pretty face." I really don't want to talk about Christian right now...

"How did your meeting with your husband go, by the way?"

Damn it. Thomas seems to have other ideas.

I shrug, sipping my tea. "Could have been better, could have been worse," I say indifferently. "We had some very intense conversations, did a little bit of arguing, and then said our goodbyes." I don't intend for my tone to be as sharp as it sounds, but this really isn't something I want to talk about, especially not on a first date. If that is what this is...

"Sorry," he says contritely. "My morbid curiosity got the better of me, I suppose."

I force a smile, showing no hard feelings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him quietly, gesturing for him to head for the couch. "Suffice it to say, it was a very long, trying weekend that didn't solve much of anything." Thomas nods thoughtfully into his cup of tea. I take a deep breath, finding myself with the unexplainable need to share a bit more. "He's actually coming to visit this weekend."

Thomas looks up at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh?" he asks politely.

I nod. "He's got some business in Germany and he asked if it would be all right to make a stop here before he heads back to Seattle," I elaborate. "It's good, though, that Teddy has opportunity to see him. This hasn't been easy on him."

"I can imagine," Thomas says sympathetically. "Though if I may ask something I've wondered... Why hasn't Christian made an effort to see the two of you before now? Seems to me a man of his means should have no trouble chasing after his family. Hell, I'd be on the first plane after you, begging you on bended knee for forgiveness."

There's the blushing again. You'd think I'd grow out of this after so long of living in Christian Grey, Dominant Extraordinaire's twisted and depraved world. "I've wondered that myself," I admit. "I think it was a combination of him knowing how incredibly angry I was with him, not believing that I had no intention to come back to him after a week or two, and not knowing how to fix things in a way that wouldn't have me telling him it was over for good and that I didn't want to see him ever again. I don't think he wanted to risk losing his son for good, not that I ever would have used Teddy as a pawn like that." I shrug. "Add it to the list of a thousand things we need to work through."

After that, Thomas thankfully changes the subject to work. We chat until we realize it's going on midnight and we're both surprised at how quickly the time's gone by. I take our teacups, both still partially full, cold, and ignored while we talked, into the kitchen and walk Thomas to the door where we stand awkwardly for a few minutes.

"Well, I had a lovely time with you and your son," Thomas says, smiling again, though this time he takes a step closer to me.

"We had a lovely time as well," I reply, my breath catching in my throat as I realize what's probably coming very soon. "Next time, we'll have to go out without the little intruder."

Thomas smiles at that. "Next time?" he asks, looking slightly smug.

I shrug. "That is if you're not put off by my drama-filled life."

"Trust me, I've dealt with worse," he says wearily. "Anyway, no matter the drama, you're pretty enough to overshadow it."

"Gee, thanks," I say with a smirk.

"I should head out," he tells me with the utmost reluctance. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, I suppose."

I nod shyly, biting my lip. My stomach flops when his eyes dart down to it and darken slightly—apparently it's not just a Christian thing, as I believed for so long... "Tomorrow," I whisper. I know what's coming and I'm not sure if I want it to happen or not. In the end it seems I wasted too much time debating the pros and cons, leaving Thomas to make the decision for the both of us: I feel his soft, hesitant lips against mine and suck in a sharp breath of surprise at how different it feels. Good different, I think, though I'm all too aware that these are not Christian's lips. As I finally return the kiss, I realize Thomas is very nearly as skilled a kisser as my husband, and I feel myself getting lost in the sensation. Before I know it, I'm pressed up against the wall, with Thomas holding me in place and it feels fucking marvelous.

When he grinds his hips into mine, apparently on instinct, I gasp again and pull away from his lips, forcing him to stop and meet my eyes. His are wide and lustful and confused. "I'm sorry," he whispers against my lips, immediately releasing me from his hold and taking several steps back. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I just..." He shakes his head, apparently unable to come up with the correct phrasing for what he's trying to say. "You seem to have one hell of an effect on me, Anastasia."

"It's okay," I respond breathlessly. "If I'd been in any other situation than the one I'm currently in, I probably wouldn't have stopped you, but considering... everything..."

He smiles kindly. "I understand, Ana. No hard feelings. If this is something we both want, we need to ease into it. And I certainly wouldn't consider something like this under normal circumstances with your son present."

I blink at him in confusion before remembering Teddy is sleeping not all that far from where we're currently standing. _Brilliant_ , says my subconscious, clapping at me slowly and sarcastically. _Mother of the Year for that one..._

I mentally give her the finger then look back at Thomas. "Right. Well, I should get some sleep."

"Of course." Thomas hesitates for a second before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. "Good night, Anastasia."

He opens the door, gives me one more smile, and leaves. And though I'm not entirely certain why, as I get into bed I'm feeling intensely guilty.

* * *

The next couple days fly by pretty quickly. On the morning following our date—it only officially became a date after the kiss—Thomas and I have taken to subtly flirting in the office and sending each other little smiles whenever our eyes catch. It's surprisingly fun and I can't help but be reminded of the early days with Christian when we filled our otherwise mundane days with emails full of banter and flirtation. I'm doing my very best not to compare Thomas to Christian so much, but when your level experience with men is as low as mine, it's inevitable.

Friday afternoon arrives and I find myself full of nerves again. Thomas notices of course and takes my shortness with him with a grain of salt; he knows what's coming this evening and he knows how anxious I am. I leave work promptly at four o'clock, just enough time to pick Teddy up from the after school daycare, which has very quickly become a lifesaver, and rush to get my son. Christian's email this morning said he would be touching down in London just after six and would drop by the apartment soon after, which gives me time to get us home, get myself showered, and pick up a little around the apartment before his arrival. And of course I'll have time to primp myself.

"Mom!"

I feel myself smiling as I spot my boy out on the playground. He's just jumped from his swing at its highest point and landed expertly on his feet, and now he's running towards me. "Hey, baby boy!" I greet him, reaching down to pull him into my arms. "Did you have a good day?"

Immediately Teddy launches into an account of his school day, not leaving a single detail out. I give a wave to the teacher to let her know I'm taking Teddy home and she waves back. We pick up his schoolbag and start off on the walk home. Or at least we intended to. It only takes me a few moments to notice a group of mothers are staring at something as they pass it by to pick up their own children and my curiosity gets the better of me.

"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter to myself, finding the object of their interest. There is a black SUV parked at the curb in front of the school, and leaning against that black SUV is none other than Christian Grey dressed in his business best complete with suit jacket, crisp white shirt, pants that hang off his hips in _that_ way, and a very familiar tie.

"Daddy!" Teddy drops his schoolbag and my hand immediately, and bolts across the schoolyard towards his father. Completely oblivious to the women stealing admiring glances at him—or at least expertly ignoring them—Christian pulls his hands from his pockets and drops to one knee in order to intercept his son. By the time I reach them, the admiring glances directed at Christian have turned into jealous glares directed at me. Over the years, I've grown used to these glares and have learned to block them out.

Christian stands with Teddy in his arms and finds me, an uncertain smile on his face. "Hello, Ana," he says.

"Christian." I'm fighting a smile and he damn well knows it, judging by the sparkling in his eyes. "We weren't expecting you for another couple hours."

He shrugs dismissively. "Plane was a little faster than we anticipated," he says flippantly.

"Right." I roll my eyes as Christian opens the back door of the SUV for me. I slide in first, depositing Teddy's backpack on the floor, then glance reflexively into the front seat where Taylor is riding passenger. "Hi, Jason."

"Mrs. Grey," he says, his lips twitching.

Teddy gets in beside me and I buckle him into the booster seat I'm only slightly surprised to see, followed by Christian, who closes the door behind him. I find myself unable to tear my eyes from my husband as he talks animatedly with Teddy, and the same feeling of guilt that I had the other night after Thomas left returns, only now I know why I feel it so strongly. Christian may have been unfaithful to our marriage, but I always remained true to him, never even considering stepping out to be with another man. And though we're currently separated and I mentioned to Christian that I'd met somebody and nothing ever went past the kiss, I feel like I've broken some sort of trust between us.

 _Maybe, but he did it first._

"Are you okay, Ana?" Christian asks, breaking through my thoughts.

I look over at him immediately, trying to wash away the guilty expression on my face. "Yes, fine. Just a little tired," I respond a little too hastily.

He quickly adopts a slightly suspicious expression, but doesn't push the subject any further.

"How was Germany?" I'm struggling to keep things light between us and I never realized how difficult this might be.

Knowing my husband as well as I do, it doesn't take much for me to pinpoint the sudden yet brief panic that flashes through his eyes or the acute nervousness on his face, though I can't imagine what might have caused his. "It went well," Christian responded, his eyes darting away from me. "I was able to close my deal."

"Good," I say faintly. Great, now we're lying to each other. My mind is starting to run through every possible worst-case scenario and every single one of them fills me with dread.

When we arrive at the apartment building, I glance over at Christian, whose eyebrows have risen as he observes the different security features of the garage. Whether it's in approval or not, I'm not entirely sure; then again, I don't really care. It's a perfectly safe building for Teddy and me, even though Mr. Overprotective undoubtedly believes nothing is ever safe enough. I give the driver the key code to get into the garage and we proceed. The car lets Teddy, Christian, and me off at the elevator, and I wait for Christian to have some sort of brief, whispered conversation with Taylor, during which Christian's eyes dart to me uncertainly so many times I lose count. He joins us, looking nervous again, and gestures for me to lead the way into the building.

We're inside the apartment and Teddy is grasping his father's hand, dragging him towards his bedroom to show off his toys. Christian throws a small, apologetic smile at me as they disappear down the hall. I'll leave them be for now; I really need to get control of my emotions. It certainly wouldn't do any of us any good for me to bumble around Christian all weekend. I fully intend to tell him about my date with Thomas, but I want to do it on my own terms, preferably without ruining the entire weekend for my son.

The boys eventually emerge and I see a strange expression on Christian's face. I'm not entirely sure how to identify it—it's wary and sad and confused and angry all rolled up into one, and it's directed at me. I shake my head, unwilling to get into an argument with him right now about whatever it is I've seem to done without having actually _done_ anything.

Christian takes us out to dinner that night to the most expensive place he can find, it seems. I'm in a dress, Teddy is in a little suit and tie that matches his father's exactly, and for a little while, we're a family again. We talk, we laugh, we tease. Christian is smiling more than I've seen him smile in years and I've forgotten how much I love that smile. It's getting late, though, and by the time dessert is brought to our table, Teddy is curled up in his chair asleep, leaving Christian and me to share the chocolate mousse cake he ordered.

"How are things?" Christian asks, cutting a small piece of the cake with his fork.

"Good," I respond lightly. "Better than good some days."

A pained expression crosses his face before he shuts it down, leaving only his hardened, I'm-in-control-always expression. I hate that expression... "Glad to hear it," he says briskly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "And your job? I hope that's going well for you."

The way he asks the question makes me a little suspicious, like he knows exactly where I went Wednesday night and with whom. I shake this off as paranoia. Even if he does know, it doesn't really matter; it's not as though I was planning to keep it from him. "Yes, work is going well," I finally answer quietly, tasting a bit of the cake. It really is delicious and though I'd only started eating it to keep myself occupied, I go back for more. It's not until after I let out a quiet groan of appreciation and lick my lips that I realize Christian isn't eating the cake anymore. Instead, he's staring at me from his side of the table with a hungry look in his eyes. I blush and drop my fork to the plate before taking up my own napkin. I glance at our son. "We should probably get him to his own bed..."

Christian seems to shake himself and nods his agreement. He raises a hand to summon the waiter for the bill and pays without the slightest bit of attention at the total of our meals. I know better than to sneak a glance—I probably don't want to know how much he spent on this outing...

He stands to help me from my chair and into my jacket, and I pretend not to notice how he lets his fingers linger against my neck after he pretends to adjust the collar, then gathers Teddy into his arms. The drive home is long and silent. I have no idea what Christian's intentions might be, whether he expects to stay with us or if he is going to a hotel.

Not until Teddy is tucked into his bed and Christian has given him a kiss on the forehead do I get the nerve to ask. As always, though, Christian is two steps ahead of me. We're standing in front of the door, in almost the exact position Thomas and I were in the other night before our kiss, looking at each other in the exact same way. Christian is clearly torn. "I, um, have a reservation at a hotel," he tells me reluctantly, running his hands through his hair. "I wasn't sure what you wanted to do as far as where I stay, but I was hoping we could have a chance to talk. Tonight, preferably, but I don't want to push you... I just..."

I almost smile at the thought that I can't recall the last time I heard Christian Grey babble, because that is exactly what he's doing. And just the fact that he made reservations elsewhere without assuming I would let him stay here is a hell of a step for him. "I'd like us to talk, too," I say, putting him out of his misery. "Stay? At least for tonight... I've got a guest bedroom..."

Christian looks as though he can't believe his luck. "Really?" he asks disbelievingly.

I smile. "Yes, really. I think Teddy would object in the morning if you weren't here for breakfast."

"And what about you?" he asks in slightly huskier voice, taking an almost minute step closer to me. "Would you object?"

Of course I realize immediately what he's doing and take a pointed step back to resume the distance between us and remind Christian of our situation as I nod. His face falls slightly but he recovers quickly. "Great. I'll call Taylor and have him bring my bags up."

"Okay," I reply. "I'm going to go get out of this dress and into something more comfortable." I say the words before I know what it is I'm saying, and as I turn to apologize, I hear the slight growl he admits in response to my words, and has _that_ look in his eyes, and I know I need to keep walking or neither of us will be able to maintain our control for much longer. I change quickly and return to the living room to find Christian has also changed from his suit to a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. In front of him is a bottle of wine that looks chilled and two glasses.

"I know you didn't find that in my kitchen..." I tease, jolting him out of his thoughts.

He snaps his head up and looks me up and down with his eyes, swallowing heavily. "No," he confirmed. "Taylor picked it up for me and brought it with my luggage. I hope you don't mind, but I found the guest room and dropped my things off in there."

"No, that's fine." I cross the room to sit beside him on the couch, careful to maintain my distance. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Christian sighs heavily, glancing over his shoulder at the balcony. "Would you like to go out there?"

I think I'm being manipulated slightly in my own apartment, but I can see the look of nerves on his face and decide to go along with it this time. I lead the way to the balcony, grabbing a jacket on the way, and we settle ourselves on deck chairs while Christian pours each of us a glass of wine. I accept mine with a smile of thanks and lean back in my chair to stare out over the view. I've been around Christian long enough to know when he is trying to find the words to say something, and I keep my mouth shut while I wait.

"Something happened while I was in Germany," he begins quietly. I blink rapidly at his words, glancing briefly over at him through the dark, but he's not looking at me; instead he's also looking at the London view. "On my first night there, I was in my room at three in the morning. I couldn't sleep, so I was catching up on some work. There was a knock on the door and I wasn't expecting anybody so it took me a few moments to actually get around to answering it." I'm staring at him now, my heart beating, though I don't know why. He sighs more heavily, turning towards me and placing his wine glass on the table between us. "Ana, Lucy showed up at my hotel room."

Somehow I manage to set my own glass beside his rather than drop it on the ground in surprise or throw it at him. My heart's stopped beating, I can feel my life ripping apart again just like it did the night I watched my husband having sex on camera with the very woman we are currently discussing. "Did you invite her in?" I have no idea why this is my first question, but I didn't get a say in which words fell from my mouth.

I see Christian nod through the dark, and immediately I'm on my feet, headed towards the bathroom to rid my stomach of everything I've eaten today. Christian is talking again, grasping at my hand, but I pull it away. The only thing going through my mind right now is the fact that after everything he's said and done in the last week to convince me to take him back, his whore shows up at his hotel room and he fucking invites her in! Now he's telling me about it.

"Ana, wait!" Christian says urgently, finally getting a good grasp on my wrist.

I turn around, poised to slap him to get his hands off me, but he releases me, holding his hands up to shoulder height in a surrender gesture. "You fucking asshole, Christian!" I hiss at him.

"Ana, listen to me," he implores, begging me. "I didn't invite her in for the reasons you think. Please let me explain."

"You have two fucking minutes, Grey," I tell him through clenched teeth, pushing past him to get back to my seat. I reach for my wine and gulp it down in two swallows. "Start talking."

Christian walks over a little more slowly and sits on the edge of his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "Ana, I didn't invite her out to Germany. I have no idea how she even fucking knew I was there. The _only_ reason I invited her into my room was that it was three in the morning and I didn't want her making a scene in the hallway."

"And you're going to try and convince me Sawyer and Taylor weren't close enough to take care of any scene she might make?" I ask dubiously.

Christian sighs. "Look, I know you won't understand this, and honestly, I don't really understand it myself, but I needed to do this myself. This wasn't something I wanted Taylor handling, not yet at least."

"Needed to do what?" I ask tiredly.

"To end it, once and for all."

My brow furrows. "Christian, you told me you ended it two months after I left you."

He nods. "Yes, but clearly she hasn't gotten the message," he says, his frustration evident. "All her calls and texts and emails and all that shit stopped, and I assumed it was done. Then she shows up in my room." I nod, gesturing for him to continue. "So she shows up, dressed to the fucking nines, and she's got this little smug smile on her face like she just won the fucking lottery—"

"Christian, I don't need that kind of detail," I snap.

He meets my eyes, his own full of regret. "Yes, you do," he tells me. "I need to tell you this, Ana, please, just let me."

I nod once, tightly.

He sighs in relief. "I knew exactly what she was expecting to happen and I knew the moment I saw her she wasn't going to get it. So I asked her what she wanted. She responded by trying to kiss me. I didn't let her, I pushed her away. I asked her again what she wanted. She told me she wanted me. I told her it wasn't going to happen. She got upset, wanted to know why, since she knew you had moved. I told her it's because I want my wife back. I didn't want her, Ana. I want you. I let her scream and yell and cry for a few minutes, and eventually, I did call Taylor, because I couldn't get her to leave and all I wanted was to sleep. That was the end of it. No more than ten painfully long minutes on the very outside. I didn't touch her except to push her away from me."

He's so proud of this. "So you finally did what you should have done from the very beginning," I say bitterly. "Congratulations, Christian."

His face falls; apparently this wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "Ana, I'm trying," he says pleadingly. "What do I have to do?"

"I don't know, Christian," I say honestly, leaning back in my chair. "I'm glad you didn't touch her except to push her away, but it doesn't change what the two of you were doing for five months. And how the fuck did she know where you were to begin with?"

His brow furrowed as he thought about the question. "I don't know. That was the first thing Taylor and I asked hotel security. The front desk says she just walked right in like she was a guest or the guest of a guest, and no one thought to stop her. Security video shows her going straight to the elevator, hitting the number for my floor, and walking to my room like she fucking owned the place."

"And you don't think that's a little odd?" I demand incredulously. For a man who treats his family's security with the highest regard, he's certainly not bothering to look out for himself.

"Of course I think it's odd, Ana," he replies wearily. "I'm having it looked into. As well as how she knows you moved. _This_ is why I'm always insisting on security going with you."

"Yeah, your exes seem to always pose the most threat, don't they, Christian," I respond. I know he's close to his breaking point—I can tell by the protruding vein in his neck—but I don't back down. Maybe I need a fight right now... "That's how it's been from the very fucking beginning—Elena, Leila, now Lucy. When's it going to stop, Christian?"

His jaw tightens and I brace myself for the explosion that never comes. Instead he takes a deep breath, pours each of us a refill on the wine, then hands me my glass. I take it reflexively. "When were you going to tell me about Thomas, Ana?" he asks in a deathly quiet voice.

I choke on my wine. How does he always turn the tables...?

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I'd forgotten how fired up people got over this story. Though I did consider changing up the story, but after trying and failing to work it out, I've decided to keep the story as is. I realize a lot of people want to see Ana with someone else, but it just wasn't fitting in to this story for me. I hope everyone will continue to read!


	10. Chapter 10

"What?" I choke out, trying to cough out my wine.

Christian takes patient sips at his own drink as he waits for me to get over my coughing fit. Once I've passed the worst of it, he sets his wine glass on the table again, rests his elbows on his knees, and clasps his hands together as he stares at me through the dark. "You heard me, Ana," he says patiently. "When were you going to tell me about Thomas?"

"How do you..." I should probably already know the answer to my question. The man knew my bank account when we'd only known each other a matter of weeks.

"Teddy told me," Christian continues calmly. "When he was showing me his bedroom, he showed me a little toy car that Mommy's friend Thomas gave him the night he took Mommy and him out to dinner at some place with games. I didn't really understand the rest of what he said, mostly due to all the effort it was taking me not to punch a hole in the wall, but..." He shrugs.

Teddy. Of course. He's far too young for me to tell him not to tell his father certain things. And I wouldn't do that anyway. I will not use my son as a pawn in this.

"Is Thomas the one you told me about in Seattle?" Christian asks quietly.

"Yes," I reply, unable to look him in the eye for some reason. He nods. "I was going to tell you Christian, this weekend, probably tonight, but you've caught me a little off guard with this whole Lucy business."

"I know," Christian replies. "So you went out on a date with him?"

I nod. "Yes."

"And?"

Sighing, I take a sip of my wine. "And we had a lovely time. I wasn't able to find a trustworthy enough babysitter in time, so Teddy came with us." Christian is staring down at his hands when I look up at him and I have no idea what he's thinking or what he might do. "Christian, it was one date. I don't even know if we'll go out again—"

"Did you kiss him?" The question is asked so suddenly that I'm stunned into silence. I debate on how I should respond only a moment; I will not lie to him. He's done enough lying throughout our marriage for the both of us.

"Yes."

Even in the dark, I can see him flinch as though he's been struck. He's silent for a few moments before his next question. "Did you fuck him?"

"What?" I demand so loudly that I'm surprised my neighbors don't pop their heads out to tell me to keep it down.

Christian looks up at me, tears streaming down his face. "Did you fuck him?" he asks again.

Now I really have no idea how to respond. My first inclination is towards anger. After everything he's done, he dares ask me that question. Then it's sadness that he's reduced to crying. Throughout our marriage I've only seen him cry a handful of times, and most of them have been in the last year. Then it's pity and a multitude of other emotions, none of which I can give into if I want to get through this conversation in one piece. "No, Christian," I say as evenly as I can manage, "I did not fuck him. I wouldn't do that, especially not with my son in the same apartment."

This conversation is going nowhere. I'm angry about Lucy showing up at my husband's hotel room uninvited. I'm angry that my husband has taken this line of questioning about Thomas. I'm angry that I didn't get the chance to tell my husband about Thomas. Hell, I'm just angry. I drain my wine glass and stand with the intention of going inside, but once again, Christian's hand on my wrist stops me.

"Ana, where are you going?" he asks pleadingly.

"To bed, Christian," I tell him tiredly. "I'm tired, I'm angry, and I really don't see us getting anywhere productive tonight in our conversations."

He stands in front of me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, Ana," he says.

"You're always sorry, Christian," I respond. With a sigh, I move forward, resting my forehead against his chest. Immediately, his arms are around me. "We both need sleep. We can continue this tomorrow... Oh, I haven't even asked how long you're staying..."

He stiffens a little. "Until Monday evening," he eventually responds.

I nod into his chest. "We'll talk more before you leave," I say quietly.

I feel him nod before resting his cheek against my hair. "I don't know if you had plans or not, but I've made arrangements for the three of us to go out and do some things. If you've got other plans..."

"No," I say quickly. "We don't have plans." I don't remember the last time he acted so nervous about making plans for his family to do anything, or when he asked my permission before telling me about his plans. "We're all yours."

A shadow passes over his face and he gives me a sad half-smile. "If only," he whispers before pressing a lingering kiss against my forehead, then pulls away from me. "Good night, Anastasia."

He's practically to the guest bedroom before I'm able to dislodge the lump in my throat to respond. "Good night, Christian."

* * *

Next morning, I'm out of bed early, long before sunrise, and I spent most of my night tossing and turning, my thoughts running circles around themselves. I hate the way Ana and I parted last night, but I can't think of a way we could have done things any differently. Between talking about Lucy and this Thomas fucker, both our emotions were heightened and our tempers were at a breaking point. I know goddamn well Ana was goading me into an argument, which is why I went to such pains to keep my temper in check when I started questioning her about Thomas.

The look on my son's face yesterday afternoon as he showed me the little car and the cheap little prizes he won when Thomas took him and Ana out was one of pure happiness. He told me all about the games and the dinner, and little unimportant things that surrounded that—like the flowers Thomas apparently brought my wife before their date. I located the flowers immediately after talking to Teddy. They were clearly cheap flowers he probably found at some little corner stand. The flowers I've given Ana over the years made those things look like weeds.

My brow furrows as I try to remember the last time I sent my wife flowers for an occasion other than her birthday, our anniversary, or begging her forgiveness. Of course Ana would fawn all over those flowers. They were simple. I remember coming to the apartment she and Kate shared and finding the deflated Charlie Tango balloon I sent her and how amused I was over how attached and possessive she was about it. I remember how happy it made her just to do some of the things I enjoyed—the gliding, sailing on _The Grace_ —and it occurs to me that maybe the best way to win my wife back, to show her how much I love her and need her, would be to go back to the beginning. Take her out for something other than fundraisers and balls. If I'm to get her back, I need to do things right this time. I try to look at it like a business venture, but one with much more satisfying rewards if I'm able to close the deal.

I scoff at myself. When am I not able to close a deal when I really, really want it? I can do this. I can get my family back.

Now I'm thinking about it, I think I know why Ana didn't respond to the long email I sent her my first night in Germany. The last few years of our marriage have been full of empty words and promises. I haven't followed through on things the way I should have done. I can write her a novel length email telling her how sorry I am and how I plan to set things right, but she doesn't trust my words anymore, doesn't trust _me_ anymore. Now there's a kick in the gut...The woman trusted me almost from the day we met and over the years I've slowly destroyed that with my behavior and lies. It's going to take a fucking act of congress for me to regain what I've lost.

And I'm starting today.

I get out of bed and shower quickly, then head out into the apartment, finding my son curled up on the couch watching television. Glancing over my shoulder, Ana's bedroom door is still shut, which means she's probably still asleep, which is perfect for what I have planned.

"Morning, baby boy," I say quietly, kneeling beside my son and pushing some of the hair off his forehead.

"Morning, Daddy," he replies tiredly, blinking his big blue eyes at me and smiling. I will never tire of that smile.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good," he yawns.

I chuckle and stand up. "Come on, come help me make Mommy breakfast."

One of the expressions Teddy has learned from his mother is her skeptical raised eyebrow when I suggest doing something she knows is out of character for me, like cooking. "Why?" he asks in confusion.

"Because it would be nice," I explain. "Are you going to help me?"

He nods and slides off the couch, taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where we go about gathering the necessary supplies for scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon. A couple years ago, for Ana's second mother's day, I asked Gail to teach me to cook my wife's favorite breakfast. It took nearly a month and me nearly burning down the house several times before I got the hang of it and Gail was comfortable leaving me alone with her kitchen, but by the time the day arrived, the meal came out perfectly. And the look on Ana's face when Teddy and I walked into the bedroom was absolutely priceless, especially since she was aware Gail had the weekend off and was visiting her sister. She was so happy that day, so grateful to me, and all I wanted to do was show her how much she meant to me, how much I appreciated her, how much I loved her for giving me everything I thought I'd never have.

Teddy is just putting the finishing touches on the plates and I'm searching for a tray or something that we can use to take breakfast to Ana in bed, when the woman herself emerges wrapped in a robe looking beautifully disheveled and frowning tiredly.

"What's this?" she asks almost in wonder.

I smile at her. "Breakfast," I state obviously. "Teddy and I thought you might enjoy it."

It takes her a moment, but eventually a slow smile begins to grow on her face until it reaches her eyes, which rest on me. I think she might actually cry. Over breakfast. Taking a deep breath, she walks over to the table and I pull her chair out for her and sit beside her with Teddy across from me and we begin to eat. "This is delicious, Christian," she says between bites of pancake. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Ana," I tell her quietly, my fingers twitching to rest over her hand. I somehow resist and go about eating my breakfast. Every few seconds, I feel Ana glancing at me, but every time I try to return the gaze, her eyes dart away from me and she blushes. We're been reduced to teenagers sneaking glances at one another during class; it's adorable.

Teddy and I clear the table once we've all finished, despite Ana's protests to help, and I send her off to get dressed for the day. While she's gone and Teddy's occupied, I call Taylor to arrange for a car for the day. Taylor promises to have it taken care of within the hour as well as confirming our plans for the day. I took care of the organizing and scheduling, but Taylor of course insisted on doing full security checks at every location. The visit from Lucy in Germany has shaken him more than he's willing to let on; she was able to get to me without any difficulty whatsoever and of course he blames himself, even though he was asleep at the time. I can't recall how many times he's apologized to me for giving into the basic human instinct to sleep. But to him, it's Leila all over again, only this time Lucy is a woman of means and won't make herself obvious by dressing in tatty clothing and letting herself fade away while she tries to get what she wants. I think that's what scares Taylor most: Lucy could easily disappear before we have a chance to get at her and the likelihood that she's out there somewhere, biding her time until I return to Seattle with her sights on Ana and Teddy.

And of course, that sets my own fear on its highest setting. I'm leaving Monday evening and my wife and son will be here alone. If something were to happen to them, it could be hours before I hear about it, and by the time I get back here...

Okay, I can't think about that. If I do, it'll only make things more difficult for all of us. I make a mental note to discuss the situation with Ana at some point today, maybe gently coax her into agreeing to a security detail. I'm fully aware this is where I've gone wrong in the past: rather than discussing something with her, I just do things without her knowledge, then she gets angry with me for not telling her why she has three men following her wherever she goes or why she's not allowed to drive herself anywhere.

See, I do think about things, and I am willing to change, even if she doesn't quite believe it yet. Maybe if I start with the small things I'll be able to convince her more easily about the bigger things.

"Are we ready?"

I look up from where I'm staring at my feet to find my wife dressed simply in jeans and a sweatshirt. I've never stopped believing she should always be in only the finest silks and satins, but she truly does look amazingly gorgeous however she decides to dress. She's blushing, which tells me I'm probably staring at her with darkened eyes and a practically drooling mouth, so I tear my gaze from her, clear my throat and stand up. "We are," I confirm. "Taylor should be downstairs with a car."

She raises an amused eyebrow. "Of course he is," she mutters before getting Teddy up and away from the television and convincing him to put away his toys so we can leave. "And where is it we're going exactly, Mr. Grey?"

I smirk at her. I do love it when she calls me Mr. Grey; she always seems to unintentionally inflect the term with a seductive tone. "It's a surprise, Mrs. Grey," I reply to her in my own unintentionally husky voice. It never ceases to amaze me the effect we seem to have on one another.

Oh fuck, she's biting her lip. I groan and she gasps, letting the lip slide through her teeth, and looks away from me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were flirting. That's got to be a good sign, right? I'll have her forgetting all about that Thomas fucker before lunchtime...

* * *

We're in the back of an SUV once again, being drive to God knows where—Christian still won't say, despite Teddy's repeated pleading for him to share. Finally Christian starts to give in a little bit and starts to drop hints to Teddy. I'm sitting in my seat with my hand covering the smirk on my face as I work out the hints within seconds, though it takes Teddy a while longer. Recognition finally strikes and his little face lights up, which of course put large smiles on my and Christian's faces; we love to see our boy happy.

The car pulls into the London Zoo and we pile out at the front of the gate. Teddy is begging to sit on his father's shoulders and Christian doesn't deny him. I find myself walking more closely beside my husband than I have in months and I can feel the heat from his body. Christian is trying so hard to make this weekend pleasant for all of us—just the fact that he made breakfast for me this morning, and it was actually edible, was one hell of a start. I'm not blind, though; I know he's trying to pretend everything is perfectly fine, and last night's conversation never happened, and I'm willing to play along with it for the day. I want Teddy to have a good day out with _both_ of his parents, especially since I don't know how long it'll be before he has this again.

My conscience is eating at me again. Teddy deserves to be nearer to his father, and the rest of his family. He deserves to have his family whole, to not have his mother and father so torn from one another. I want him to have that and more, but I can't let him grow up in a home where his mother isn't happy—I know firsthand what that does to a child, watching its parent suffer. The self-esteem issues alone still haunt me, then the feeling of being unworthy of love even when it's handed to you on a silver platter. I want my son to experience love, true love, and I don't want that marred by memories of Christian and me being unable to be in each other's presence without tearing up or fighting.

"Hey."

My head snaps up to meet Christian's concerned gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly. Teddy is on his feet again, impatiently tugging on his father's hand to pull him towards the zoo.

I force myself to nod and smile. "Yes," I rasp out. "I'm fine."

He frowns, knowing full well I'm lying, but he won't call me out on it. Not right this minute, anyway. "Come on, then," he coaxes gently. He holds out his hand towards me uncertainly and I stare at it just as uncertainly. I want to take it, to feel his fingers close around mine, but I've hesitated too long: His hand drops to his side and a look of hurt and disappointment crosses his face as he turns away from me, leading the way towards the first exhibit Teddy wants to see.

Christian and I are becoming quite good at faking our happiness in front of our son. It's actually a little disconcerting, but at least he's able to enjoy his day. We move from exhibit to exhibit at Teddy's pace. Christian carries him on his shoulders so he can see into the different habitats, and he points out every animal with such excitement that we can't help but be put into good moods. By lunchtime, Christian and I are relaxed and laughing and teasing one another without hesitation. We have hamburgers and French fries at a picnic table underneath the shade of a large tree and when Teddy finishes his meal, he rushes off across the way to look at the giraffes, leaving Christian and me at the table to eat and keep an eye on him.

"I'd give anything to have this back," I hear Christian say wistfully.

I look over at him to find him watching me watching Teddy. I sigh. So much for a stress free day out. "So would I," I admit.

Immediately he is kneeling on the grass in front of me with his hands on my knees, looking up at me pleadingly. "So come home," he begs in a whisper. "Forget all of this and be my wife again. I'm trying to change, Ana, but I can't do it without you."

"It's not that easy, Christian," I tell him, shaking my head. "I know you're trying, and you have no idea what it means to me to see you trying so hard, but I've seen all this before, Christian. You change for a couple weeks, a couple months at most, but you always revert back to what caused the problem in the first place."

"But I won't," he insists emphatically. "Not this time. I've been blinded for years with the belief that there wasn't anything I could do that would make you leave me again. I took that and you for granted. I won't make that mistake again, Ana."

I give him a sad smile. "I wish I could believe that. I _want_ to believe that. But I can't." I sigh, trying to think of a way to explain that I haven't used before. "Christian, we both made mistakes. I could have fought harder to keep our marriage happy enough that you weren't driven to another woman's arms. I could have made you listen to me when I realized what all our fighting was doing to me. Hell, I could have brought Elena up sooner and we could have had it out, and it would have been over. Instead, I kept everything bottled up until I saw that fucking video when everything blew up in my face. You may have been the one to have the affair, Christian, but we're both to blame for the state of our marriage. And until we both have a chance to come to terms with that and work on it individually, we can't fix what we broke."

He sighs heavily and lowers his head to rest in my lap. Automatically, my fingers run through his hair. He's going to need a haircut soon... "You sound like Flynn," he comments, his voice a little breathy as my fingers continue to move.

I smile. "Are you still seeing him?" I ask.

He shrugs. "On and off," he says, reluctantly lifting his head to look at me. "He's referred me to another therapist to deal with the affair. He thinks having a second opinion might help me understand why you left."

My eyes widen in surprise at the news, but of course, I'm distracted by his words. "You don't understand why I left?" I ask him incredulously. I thought my reasons were pretty cut and dry...

"No, I do understand," he tells me quickly. "But my trouble was more with understanding what the affair did to you. I knew it was wrong, I knew I shouldn't have done it, but at the same time, I thought I was entitled to having my wife at my side through everything, no matter what I did, and I couldn't wrap my head around why you didn't feel the same."

I have no words for this. I always knew he had a spoiled little boy side to him—Flynn's words from years ago about him having the emotional understanding and capacity of a teenager comes flooding back to me. It's maddening that even after all this time, that part of him hasn't changed one iota.

Before I can think of anything to say in response, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Christian jumps back from my lap in surprise, making me grin at him. He sits back on his heels as I dig the phone from my jeans and look at the caller id. I inwardly sigh. Very interesting timing, Thomas... I press the _talk_ button and stand up, moving away from Christian for a bit of privacy.

"Hello, Thomas," I say quietly, glancing over my shoulder to find Christian sitting at the picnic table again and watching me closely.

"Hi, Ana," he says warmly. "How's your weekend?"

"Oh, just fine," I tell him. "My husband is in town and we're at the zoo with Teddy..." I'm trying to keep my tone light so Christian doesn't suspect who I'm talking to, but judging by the tight line of his mouth, it's a pointless attempt.

"Ah, right," Thomas replies, sounding as though he just remembered Christian is visiting for the weekend and disappointed that I'm out spending the day with him. "Well, I won't keep you long. I've just been made aware of a benefit dinner tonight for some charity my family contributes to and I was wondering if you might like to join me. I understand if you'd rather not, especially with your husband visiting, but I would very much appreciate your company..."

I shoot a glance back to Christian. I'm torn. On the one hand, I could use an evening out, getting to know Thomas a bit more. On the other hand, the last thing I want to do right now is set off Christian's jealous side. It wouldn't really help my career if my husband punched my boss and gave him a broken nose, and I know Christian is capable of that. Then again, if Christian saw firsthand that I was serious about dating and trying things out with another man, maybe that would force him to the realization that things don't always go his way and it is possible for him to lose me.

"Tempting as that is, Thomas," I finally respond, "it's probably not a good idea right now. Another time perhaps?"

I can hear the disappointment in his voice that he's trying not to show. "Of course, Ana. I understand. I'll see you Monday morning, then?"

"Bright and early," I confirm. "Enjoy the benefit tonight."

He snorts a derisive laugh. "I'll do my best."

We say goodbye, I stow my phone back in my pocket, and turn back to find Christian's face set in stone as he watches me. "Sorry about that," I tell him, ignoring his glare.

"Who was it?" he asks coolly.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "A friend," I reply in the same tone.

"Thomas?" he spits out. "The fucker you went on a date with?"

Sighing, I shake my head. "Christian, that really is none of your concern."

"Everything you do is my concern, Anastasia," he flings back. "Besides, I thought we were being honest with each other."

Discreetly, I roll my eyes. "Fine," I say shortly. "If you really want to know, yes, it was Thomas. He was asking if I would go to some benefit with him this evening. I told him no."

His brow furrows in surprise as though he can't quite believe my words. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to make things worse between you and me. I'm not going to shove a new relationship with another man in your face, Christian," I tell him.

"So you'll just wait until I'm gone, then go out with him again?" he asks bitterly.

"Yes, that was the plan," I reply bluntly. "Look, we've been through this. Yes, I want to try to work things out between you and me, but I'm not going to stop living my life. If our marriage can't be saved, I don't want to look back and realize I could have had something with Thomas, but I threw it to the side because I'm concerned about your feelings. After all, you didn't really put my feelings into consideration when you started your affair..."

He has no response for that, but the hurt on his face is evident. Eventually he nods then busies himself cleaning up the leftovers from our lunch. "Come, Teddy is going to start getting restless to see the rest of the zoo soon..."

And with that statement, I think I've effectively ruined the rest of the afternoon. Christian hardly says a word to me. I know it's not fair to rub my not-quite-relationship with Thomas in his face, but at the same time, I gave him ample warning. I told him in Seattle that I'd met somebody. Last night I told him about our first date. It would be different if I'd agreed to going out with Thomas tonight; he'd have every right to sulk.

If this is the way things are going to be between us until he leaves on Monday, I'm almost tempted to call Thomas and tell him I've changed my mind. I won't, of course. Instead I put a smile on my face for my son's benefit and try to enjoy what's left of our day.

* * *

I am positively fucking livid right now, though I am trying to hide it from my son. The fact that this Thomas fucker has the balls to call _my wife_ and ask her to some bullshit benefit is bad enough. But to hear her admit that she'll continue to date him once I'm gone...

I've only myself to blame for all of this. And she did warn me that she's met somebody. I just hoped maybe she was bluffing and that the date she'd gone on had been a one-time thing. Clearly that's not the case. By signing that separation agreement, I agreed to let Ana live her life, which means dating if that makes her happy. I'm not thrilled about it—obviously—and I'm sure I could raise the biggest fuss ever raised by telling her I didn't want her dating some asshole she only just met and involving my son. That is a concern for me; I don't know this Thomas. I don't know what his intentions are with my wife and son. He could be a psychopath for all I know. The only things stopping me from bringing this up to Ana is the knowledge that it will only drive the wedge farther between us.

So many of our troubles stem from my lack of trust that she can take care of herself. I'm so quick to decide that I know better than she does when it comes to her safety and happiness, as well as our son's. Truth is, though, it's gotten to the point over recent years that I truly don't know what's best for my son's happiness. I've spent more time on business trips or working or, more recently, fucking Lucy that I don't know my son as well as I should.

I stop cold in the middle of the zoo as that realization hits me. While it's true I just spent a month straight with him, it's probably the longest I've done so since he was small. There are seven months completely unaccounted for, when I was sitting at home in Seattle so lost and distraught that my wife had left me, talking to my son over the fucking internet every other day, when I could have been in London with them. Or if not _with_ them, because I doubt Ana would have given in so easily, nearby so I was at least seeing my son in person whenever I could.

"Christian?"

I look away from where my son is staring at a penguin exhibit to find Ana looking at me in concern. "Yes?" I ask hoarsely.

She frowns. "Are you okay?"

Am I? Well, that's a fucking easy answer: "No."

"No?" she repeats.

I shake my head. "No, Ana, I'm not okay. I fucked up. I've lost you completely. And I've lost my son."

All the color drains for her face as she closes the distance between us. "Christian, what are you talking about?" she asks me in a fearful whisper. "You haven't lost Teddy."

The smile I try to summon is more of a grimace. "I've just lost you?" I ask, my voice and heart breaking.

Her eyes close as though she's in pain. I can relate. "Maybe we should have this discussion later? This isn't really the best place to do this..."

I nod my agreement, swallow my emotion, take in a deep breath, and stand up straight. "Of course." If I can keep myself in work mode for the afternoon, I

I manage to get through the rest of the afternoon, somehow without our son catching on that anything is wrong between his parents. I understood Christian was upset about the phone call I received from Thomas, though I did think it might lessen the blow for him to know I didn't plan on going out with Thomas while he was visiting. Apparently I was wrong. I don't want to hurt Christian, I hate seeing him in pain, but he knew about Thomas.

I don't know if this latest mood change has been triggered by the phone call, though I suspect it has been. All I know is that one second we were walking through the zoo as a family, and the next, Christian was several steps behind me, looking as though he'd just walked straight into a brick wall. I've never been all that skilled at reading his thoughts, even at the best of times, but I never thought he would think he's lost his son. I never wanted him to feel that way. While I blame Christian for doing this to us in the first place, I know it was by my own choice that Teddy and I are living so far from him.

Whatever happens, I have absolutely no intention of ever keeping Christian from his son. I wouldn't force Teddy to suffer like that. There's a small part of me that tells me I need to go home with Christian and work this out, no matter what it takes or how strained the relationship is between us. It tells me it's my duty to my son and to my marriage that I not give up. It tells me it doesn't matter how miserable I am, my son should grow up with both his parents, together. But coming from numerous broken homes, I know I'll never go through with that. I spent so much of my life watching my mother being miserable over whichever failed marriage she was suffering through at the time and though she did everything to shield me from those feelings, I was aware of every bitter look, every hurtful word, every cold action, and I vowed never to put my children through that.

On the ride back to the apartment, Christian doesn't say a word; instead he stares out the window as we drive. Teddy is relaying us with every animal he saw and playing with the stuffed animals and little figurines Christian bought him at the zoo gift shop. I'm only listening to my son with half an ear, my attention on my husband as I silently will him to look at me so I can make whatever is on his mind go away.

 _There is one way to get his mind off his troubles..._ My subconscious and I both stare open-mouth as my inner goddess strolls across the room wearing barely a Kleenex's worth of lacy lingerie.

My subconscious shakes her head then throws one of her beloved books across the room, knocking my inner goddess on her bare ass. I swear she's worse than Christian at times...

We order takeout for dinner and Taylor picks it up for us, and now we're sitting on the floor of the living room in a triangle with pizza boxes scattered between us along with containers of breadsticks, chicken wings, and a couple bottles of Coke. Christian's mood has lightened slightly as we eat and before his third slice of supreme pizza, I swear he's smiling again. Teddy decides he doesn't want to sleep in his room tonight, but rather with his parents, and begs us to camp out here in the living room. Christian looks at me for my decision and I'm met with not one but two puppy dog looks. Rolling my eyes I consent to the camp out and Teddy cheers before running towards his bedroom to gather his pillows, blankets, and pajamas.

"You sure this is okay?" Christian asks me quietly.

I meet his gaze and he looks as though his happiness lies in my decision tonight. I smile at him. "Of course," I reply. "It could be fun."

He gives me a shy smile. "If you tell me where you keep the spare blankets, I'll help Teddy build us a bed on the floor..."

"Down the hall, closet just past Teddy's room. I'll put away the leftovers and get my pajamas."

After I've changed, I go out to find the boys. Teddy is sitting in the middle of a large pile of blankets and pillows, already changed into his pajamas and searching for a movie for us to watch. "Where's your daddy, baby?" I ask him, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair.

He tilts his head back to look at me, grinning toothily. "Someone called him," Teddy informs me. "Daddy's outside."

With a raised eyebrow, I glance towards the patio to find Christian pacing, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other fisting in his hair. I can't hear what he's saying, but whatever it is, he looks pissed. When he starts cursing at the top of his voice, I have the need to close the sliding glass door that Christian left cracked. Teddy's looking towards his father in interest at the words coming out of his mouth and the last thing I need is for my son to repeat those words at a new school. My hand freezes on the door, however, when I unintentionally hear part of his conversation.

"I told you to leave me the fuck alone," he growls loudly. "No! You will not handle it. You had your chance and you fucked it up, so now it's my turn! ... I mean it, Elena, stay the fuck away or you will fucking regret it." I am staring at him wide-eyed as he hangs up on his phone and turns towards me. He freezes mid-step, all the color draining from his face and I know I'm radiating anger and confusion towards him.

All of a sudden, the last place I want to sleep tonight is on the floor near Christian.


	11. Chapter 11

I'm gaping at my husband through the sliding glass door as he slips his phone back into his pocket.

"Ana," he begins quietly, striding over to open the door and stepping aside for me to join him on the patio. I do so reluctantly and he closes the door behind us. "Ana, it's not what you think."

"Not what I think," I repeat, mostly to myself as thousands of possibilities run through my mind. "And what is it I'm thinking, Christian?"

He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "You think I'm still in contact with Elena, still seeing her, even though I told you I haven't done so in months."

"Well, aren't you fucking mind reader," I spit at him. "What are you going to tell me next, Christian? That you lied about sending Lucy away the other night? That the two of you spent hours fucking in every position your warped brain could come up with?"

"No!" he says loudly, indignantly. "Ana, I'll show you the fucking security cameras from the hotel. Ask Taylor if you don't believe me! I did not fuck Lucy that night!"

"Why are you talking to Elena Lincoln, Christian?" I ask wearily, already tiring of this argument.

He backs away to lean against the railing, crossing his arms and his feet. "I told you already that she was trying to get me to invest in her new beauty salon chain. Well, I put in a sizable investment with the agreement that I am a silent, absent partner and that I'm not to be contacted for anything related to the business, no matter what it is. The first salon was supposed to open this week, but there've been a few legal complications and she's been trying to get a hold of me for advice. I told her I'd see what my lawyers could do to fix the problems, since hers are fucking useless. She told me she would leave it to me and them to sort it. Well, she didn't. She pushed things to the point that she's about to lose her beautician license or whatever it is you need to run a salon. So now in order to not lose the money I invested, I've got to clean up her messes again."

I'm not sure if this is supposed to make me forgive him. I'm not sure if this is supposed to make me pity the Bitch Troll. And I'm not sure if I'm even supposed to believe it. In the end, I decide I do believe it, despite my thoughts that my husband is the biggest idiot to walk the face of the planet for giving Elena Lincoln even a penny. "How much did you give her?" I ask cautiously, realizing _after_ asking the question I probably don't want to know the answer. Call it morbid curiosity.

Christian gives me a look of utmost reluctance. "Three million," he finally answers, wincing in preparation for my reaction.

My jaw falls open and I put my hand on the wall to keep me upright. " _Three million?_ " I cry in shock. "Why the fuck would you give that woman three million dollars?"

He shrugs in answer. "I don't know, Ana. I wasn't thinking clearly. It was back when you and I were fighting all the time."

"Oh no, don't you dare try to blame our fighting for this, Christian Grey," I say in a deathly quiet voice. "Everything you've done, you've blamed it on that. Man up for a change, Christian. You had a moment of weakness, you felt sorry for her, whatever. But do not blame the status of our relationship."

He looks at me with contrition. "I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. Look, Ana, why I did it isn't the point. She's out. Every time I try to make amends and try to reestablish our business relationship for the sake of old times, she fucks me over. She's doing it again now. She has no idea what the fuck she's doing, and the only things she's accomplished so far is losing my money. The bitch can rot for all I care. As far as the business side, I'll merge it with what's left of Esclava and call it done. At this point, I don't fucking care about the money."

My eyebrows rise again. I've always known Christian isn't exactly thrifty with his money, but three million dollars... "Whatever," I say faintly. I just don't have the energy to argue with him tonight. "Come on, Teddy's waiting for us."

He's shocked himself that I've so quickly dropped the subject when in the past arguments about Elena could last for days. "Right, of course..." he says quickly, eagerly following me inside.

Teddy's picked his movie, I've made us some popcorn, and the three of us huddle down on the blankets, giggling at the Disney movie. Teddy falls asleep halfway through and Christian switches off the television, lying down on his side facing me and our son, who's curled himself into my body. He's got that look of longing on his face again and I recall the incident at the zoo.

"Christian?" I whisper into the dark.

"Yes, Ana?" he whispers back.

I hesitate, desperately hoping this conversation won't wake our sleeping son. Then again, a bomb could go off in his bedroom closet and he'd probably do nothing more than turn his little head away from the noise. "You know I have no intention of ever keeping Teddy from you, don't you?" I finally ask.

He doesn't answer, but I know his face is full of fear of that very concept.

"Christian, whether you and I are together or apart, Teddy is still your son and you're still his father, and nothing will ever change that. I will never deny you the chance to see him, nor will I deny him. The two of you..." I smile fondly down at my son's scruffy head. "You two are so wonderful together and I love seeing the two of you play. Especially after all that talk from you about what kind of father you could be due to your past. You're an amazingly wonderful father, Christian Grey, and come hell or high water, you will not lose your son. Do you understand me?"

I try to force my eyes to adjust to see him better, but it's too dark. I do hear him let out a shaky sigh of what I believe to be relief. "Thank you," he breathes through the darkness.

That's the last we speak to one another before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

I wake in the morning to giggling. It takes me a few minute to realize where I am, why I'm there, and why my fucking back hurts the way it does. My eyes open to find Ana and Teddy have gotten out of our little makeshift bed and I smile to myself. I slept with my wife last night. Maybe not in the way I've hoped to sleep with her—the way that involves very little actual sleep—but a man has to take the small victories when he can.

Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I wince as my lower back muscles protest even the slightest movement. I'm too fucking old to be sleeping on the floor... Ana and Teddy are in the kitchen, and by the looks of it, Ana is returning the favor of making her breakfast yesterday. I wasn't expecting her to reciprocate, but I have to admit the idea of my wife cooking my breakfast is a very appealing concept. As carefully and quietly as I can, I stand and make my way to the kitchen, resting my shoulder on the doorframe, just watching them.

Teddy has a dining chair backed up against the kitchen counter to stand on while Ana helps him scramble eggs. She turns away briefly towards the cupboard beside the fridge for a stack of plates and I can't hold back the longing groan I emit as she stretches and her pajama shirt rides up her back, exposing about an inch or two of her perfect alabaster skin. Jumping at the sound, Ana nearly drops the plates and I rush over to save her and them.

When I look down at her again, she's blushing and I know she knows what I was groaning about. I smirk at her and take the plates to the table. Over a delicious breakfast, I ask Ana and Teddy what they want to do today. Teddy quickly suggests the park and I look to Ana for her thoughts. She's smiling fondly at Teddy; I think I know her answer.

"Sure, baby boy," I tell him. "We can go to the park."

He beams at me and starts wolfing down his breakfast, urging his mother and me to do the same so we can get a move on. Ana finally convinces him to calm down enough to explain it's still too early in the morning for the park, because it's cold. Teddy compromises when she suggests going around lunchtime so we can all have a picnic.

"Well done, Mrs. Grey," I mutter, impressed at her skills of staving off what would have been an impressive tantrum from our son.

She snorts a laugh. "Just because you give in to his every demand it doesn't mean the rest of us do the same, Christian," she shoots at me playfully.

I look at her, feigning hurt feelings. "Every demand?" I ask her, standing up to help her with the dishes.

"Yes, every demand," she replies. "Honestly, Christian, you don't have to give him everything he wants just because he wants it."

I grin at her. "Of course I do," I tell her huskily, unconsciously closing much of the distance between myself and my wife. She backs up until she hits the kitchen counter and I keep walking until we're toe-to-toe. "I've told you before, Anastasia," my neck begins to bend, "I will give my family everything they want," Ana's eyes are half-closed, her lips parted, "when they want it," our breathing is becoming erratic, "however they want it." My lips are a fraction away from hers when I realize what we're doing and that she's not stopping me, that she wants this as much as I do. But just as I feel her lips touch mine, Teddy is running back into the room, and we fly apart, me backing up until I've hit the counter opposite my wife.

Her eyes are wide, she's panting, and heat is rising into her cheeks. I imagine I look very similar, but it's not until Ana's eyes dart down below my waist that I realize just how badly I wanted that kiss. "Fuck," I hiss, quickly leaving the room before my son sees my erection.

After the coldest shower I've had in years, I return to the living room where Ana and Teddy are folding up the blankets we used last night. Ana glances up at me, blushing again, and gives me a tight smile that I can't quite muster in return. The rest of the morning is tense and awkward between us. Every time I look at her, she's looking right back at me, but quickly diverts her gaze. I want to talk to her, to apologize for what happened in the kitchen even though I can't honestly say I actually regret it. The only thing I regretted at the time was my son's poor sense of timing.

It's not until we're getting ready to head for the park that I finally have a moment alone with my wife. Teddy's off in his room getting dressed and I have a feeling Ana has been using him as a shield between us all morning long. She looks around in slight panic when she realizes I'm the only one in the room with her.

"Ana, about this morning..." I speak quickly knowing that at any moment Teddy will come breezing back. "I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment, and..." I trail off as she shakes her head.

"Christian, it's fine," she says quietly, meeting my gaze for the first time since the almost-kiss. "It's not as though I was stopping you, is it?" She sighs in amusement and something else I can't quite put a finger on then her expression turns serious again. "Just... Don't expect us to pick up where we left off. Okay?"

It's anything but okay, but I nod my agreement nonetheless, swallowing my disappointment. And really, what did I expect? That she was going to let me fuck her right there in the kitchen? That after all the pain I've caused her she'd let me back in that easily? Especially considering our most recent argument from last night about Elena. Which reminds me...

I quickly fire off several emails in regards to Elena's new salon chain, my investment in it, and how I want this handled—preferably as quickly as possible... I lucked out last night with Ana dropping the argument the way she did, but I need to be prepared for if it pops up again, because I _know_ it will pop up again. My last email is sent to Elena, informing her that I'm out, that her business endeavors are only dragging me down, and that I want in no way to be involved or even associated with her for the rest of my life. I'm fully prepared for her to beg me to reconsider, which is why I'm gifting her that $3 million with wishes of never hearing from her again. Call it a bribe if you will, but the only woman I want in my life right now is my wife and I am getting desperate, especially after that almost-kiss...

Despite how I feel about leaving Ana and Teddy, come Monday evening, I will be on the way back to Seattle. Personally, I think Ana and I have made a lot of progress this weekend, but I also think distance from the situation is best for the time being. We both need time to think about what it is we want and if we can even get that again. I have no intentions of giving up on her and I will continue to make every effort possible to remain in her life.

Lunch at the park is wonderfully simple. Ana and I are lounged on the blue checkered blanket we brought watching as Teddy runs wild around the playground. It's going to kill me reminding him that I'm leaving tomorrow. He's so happy right now and I know it's because Ana and I are here together and getting along. I can already imagine his little face crumbling, his little lip trembling, and his eyes filling with tears. After a month of having him pretty much to myself, then this weekend, it's going to be rough going back to life without him there every day.

I glance at Ana, finding her eyes following Teddy's progress as well. She's got a sad expression on her face and I know she's probably thinking along the same lines I am. She senses my stare—she always does—and turns to meet my eyes, a corner of her mouth lifting slightly in an attempt of a smile. "When will we see you again?" she asks in a whisper.

My breath catches in my throat. She didn't ask when _Teddy_ would see me again; she said _we_. I can't help but take that as a sign that we're on our way back to each other. "I don't know," I respond quietly. "When I get back home, I'm going to take a look at my schedule and see if I can't move some things around. Shall we say next month for now?" I watch her face closely and see the flicker of disappointment cross her face. Inwardly, I'm punching a fist into the air.

"A month," she agrees, turning back to Teddy.

I hesitate, wondering if I'll be pushing my luck. "Ana, I don't know if you've thought this far ahead or not, but unless you have other plans, I'd like to see you and Teddy for Thanksgiving and Christmas. If you two can't come to Seattle, I'll happily come here; I just don't want to spend the holidays alone."

She looks at me evenly and for the briefest moments, I think I've pushed her too far too quickly. My heart starts beating again when her shy smile appears. "I'd like that," she tells me. "How about we do Thanksgiving in Seattle, then if your schedule permits, you can come here for Christmas?"

I'm grinning like an idiot. "Perfect. As for my schedule permitting me... Baby, I'm the fucking CEO, if my schedule doesn't permit it, I have no problem cancelling whatever I have planned. Especially if it means I get to spend time with my family."

And with that, I'm already feeling a little better about leaving Ana and Teddy here in London on their own. I still don't exactly like the idea and I wish I could convince her to come home with me, but at least we've managed to arrange times for us to be together again.

It's not until early evening that we call Teddy back to us and decide to head back to the apartment. We've spent most of the day chasing him around the playground, teaching him how to skip rocks in the water, and just generally enjoying each other's company, and I can't remember the last time I felt this good and relaxed. I know Ana feels the same and I am beyond relieved. It feels like _us_ again, like we did at the beginning when we first became parents and were so focused on our son and his happiness that nothing else mattered.

This is how it should always be...

* * *

We spend the rest of the evening together. Christian's phone is somewhere in his room and I haven't seen him touch it in hours—a first. I haven't brought up Elena again and I really don't want to. I want to trust that Christian will finally take care of her once and for all and then rid our lives of her. As cruel as it is to admit it, I'm using this as a test to see just how determined he is to get me back. Over the years, I've learned my own little tricks of finding things out and I will employ every last one to ensure he's burned every possible bridge to Elena Lincoln.

As pissed off I am that he's even entertained the idea of rebuilding his business relationship with the Bitch Troll, I really need to learn to let things go. We've already had it out over her more times that I can count and it's exhausting. So as much as I want to slap him for this, I'm taking John Flynn's advice from a few years ago and giving him the benefit of the doubt.

"Teddy's down."

I snap my head up from where I've been staring at the floor to find Christian reentering the living room. Together we've gone through Teddy's normal bedtime routine of bath, story, and tuck in. I left the boys alone for a few minutes to give Christian some private time with his son to explain he was going back to Seattle, but would be seeing us again as soon as he could. The sad part is that I know the only thing that stuck in his mind is that Daddy's leaving again.

"Good," I say with a smile. "Thank you."

He nods, standing awkwardly as though he doesn't know whether he's allowed to approach me or not. Eventually he decides it's okay and sits down beside me, still keeping distance between us. I know there's something on his mind, something bothering him, but I don't push him into conversation. He needs to get his thoughts in order if we're to have a productive discussion about everything happening between us, so I wait as patiently as I can manage.

"Ana?" he says quietly.

I look over at him and he's looking at his shoes, his brow furrowed. "Yes, Christian?"

He sighs heavily before finally meeting my gaze. My breath catches in my chest at the haunted look in his eyes and I wonder what could have possibly brought this on. "That night," he begins slowly, reluctantly, "you saw that video. You told me you never believed that you were enough for me." My eyes close at the memory, and I know exactly where he's going with this. "Do you really believe that?"

I nod. "Yes," I whisper. "How could I not? Christian, I watched that entire video. I saw how you two were together. I watched her touching you in the places you've only allowed me to touch. And I saw how much you were enjoying it." He's hanging on my every word right now. "That's when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wasn't enough anymore. During the early days of our relationship, when you first started allowing me to touch your chest and your back and your scars, I felt like we had something incredibly special. You were letting me do something no one else ever had, including your family. That night, watching _her..._ " I trail off, trying to keep from crying; I need to tell him this. I can see his hand inching a little towards mine, but I can't handle his comfort right now, so I lean away from him a little farther and he retracts his hand. "Watching her touching you in that way shattered everything for me. If you could let another woman touch you, then what was left for us? You didn't need me anymore. She probably went willingly into the playroom with you—whether she did or not, I don't really fucking care; it's not the point," I add sharply when he opens his mouth to speak. "You told me yourself you thought you were in love with her at one point, and even if you say it wasn't real or it was an illusion... Christian, that tells me a lot about the status of our marriage. I knew that night that if I hadn't seen that video, if I hadn't confronted you about it, eventually you would have come home and ended our marriage to be with her.

"It would have killed me, Christian. It nearly killed me watching that video. I never wanted to lose you. I never wanted to stop loving you and even if we divorced and I was forced to watch you with her on your arm, I don't think I would ever be able to stop loving you. I think that's what makes all of this so difficult. If I was able to hate you, even a little, I could get through this. But I can't, no matter how hard I try. Even after everything you've told me about you and Lucy and everything with Elena... I can't hate you."

He looks as though he's being tortured by my words and I think he's finally starting to understand what I'm feeling. "I don't know what to say," he says quietly, his voice cracking.

I give him a half-shrug. "I don't think there is anything _to_ say right now," I admit.

"Is there any possibility that you'll ever be able to forgive me?" he begs. "I know I don't deserve it, but if there is even the slightest chance, please tell me."

"I want to say yes," I tell him honestly. "The more we talk about this the easier it's becoming to think about forgiving you, but forgiveness won't mean we're together, Christian. We still have so much to work through, both of us. Together."

"But we are working on it, right?" he ventures hesitantly.

I smile at him slightly. "We're starting to," I tell him, watching his shoulders relax a little.

"Good," he breathes.

I want to reassure him somehow, but I really don't know how. Nor do I know why I'm the one with the need to do the reassuring; shouldn't he be telling me how much he loves me and needs me and that I'm the only one he wants for the rest of his life? Is it a good sign or a bad one that he's not doing this? Has he finally figured out that words aren't going to make me fall back into his arms the way they once had?

I want this visit to end on a good note, not with the both of us lost in our misery. It takes a few minutes, but I watch as he takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when he next looks at me, his eyes are hiding all his emotions and he's even got a smile on his face, as brittle as it seems at the moment.

"Ana, I will find a way to prove to you that you are everything I have ever wanted and more," he tells me. "Whether you believe it or not right now doesn't matter. I'll believe it enough for both of us."

Of all the things he's said to me over the last few weeks, this is the one that's probably meant the most. He's not trying to convince me to believe him or begging me to change my mind and come home with him tomorrow. And even though I am having trouble believing his words, I do believe he will put all of his energy and determination into proving to me what our relationship means to him.

I'm speechless right now, but I don't think he is expecting me to say anything to him. For that, I'm grateful. After everything that's happened, I fear that if I try to speak I'll start sobbing and become an incoherent mess.

I don't know how long we're sitting on the couch together, but when I feel pressure against my fingers, I look down to find his hand wrapped around them. I have no idea how long we've been like that; I look up at him in question to find him also staring at our hands uncertainly. Which of us initiated it? And why does it even matter?

Christian's hand pulls away from mine reluctantly and it looks as though it's causing him pain. "We should probably get some sleep," he says quietly. "It's been a long weekend."

I nod and we stand facing one another. I know what I want to happen right now: I want the kiss we nearly shared this morning. Nervously, I step forward, registering his wide eyes as he wonders whether he should step back or not. Biting my lip briefly, I reach up and cup his cheek in my hand and watch the shiver that shoots through his body, into mine. Our eyes close at almost the same exact moment, just before our lips touch.

From our very first kiss on the elevator at the Heathman Hotel, there always seemed to be this current of electricity that flows between us. Sometimes it's a little dulled, but it's there, and without fail it takes a simple kiss and turns it into an almost spiritual experience. It's there now, as our lips open and close around each other's, as Christian's tongue tentatively explores mine. One of his arms is wrapped around my waist, holding me against him, and his free hand is somewhere in my hair, holding my head still. I've got one hand fisted in his shirt and the other gripping the back of his neck.

To my surprise and disappointment, Christian is the first to end the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. We're both breathing rapidly, staring into each other's eyes.

"Please tell me you felt that," he breathes.

I nod, unable to find my voice. He hugs me tighter in response.

"And did you feel that with Thomas?"

I'm not surprised by the question; I expected it. But do I answer honestly? I have to be... "Yes," I answer, looking up into his eyes as they clench tightly shut. "But not to that extent..."

His eyes shoot open again, wider than ever. He pulls away from me just enough to look at me, searching for any hint that I might be saying it to make him feel better. The look of wonder and relief in his eyes when he sees I'm being honest makes me smile. "There is some hope then," he says mostly to himself.

"Maybe a little bit," I tease in a whisper. "About this much..." I hold up my thumb and forefinger with about a centimeter of distance between them.

He beams at me. "Well, that much is better than none," he tells me. After a second, his smile fades again and he swallows hard. "I know one kiss isn't going to fix things, even though it's made me come to life again." I smirk at his words; I can feel his erection against my belly. He rolls his eyes. "That's _not_ what I meant!"

I giggle. "I know what you meant, Christian," I tell him. "I feel the same. I'm just relieved we haven't lost _that_."

He pulls me against him again, resting his lips on my forehead. "Me, too, baby," he whispers. "Me, too."

We embrace until I start to yawn. Christian releases me with a smile. "We seem to be distracting one another again," he says. "It's been a long weekend. We've both been given quite a bit to think about. So we really should get some sleep." I nod my agreement and we go about shutting off lights and locking the doors, shooting each other shy looks whenever we can. Once we've dragged out our nightly routine as long as we could, we head towards the hall.

Outside the guest room, neither of us knows quite what to do. We both know if we kiss again there won't be any sleeping going on tonight, so we keep our distance, though I can see Christian battling the impulse to press me against the nearest wall. And it's not entirely an unappealing concept...

We end up trading awkward good night smiles and waves, and I continue on down the hall to my bedroom. Before I close my door, I see him lingering in the hallway, watching my every move, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess to close the door on his gaze.


	12. Chapter 12

I'd forgotten how difficult mornings can be when you're the only one making sure you and your son get up, ready, and out the door without being late. Teddy's like me in the mornings: he much prefers to stay within the warm confines of his bed and anybody who tries to rouse him receives the grumpy side of my otherwise happy, easygoing son.

With Christian's help, though, Teddy is out of his room, dressed, and eating breakfast before I even finish my shower. I smile at him gratefully when I reach the table and find a bowl of granola and yogurt waiting for me. When I woke, I immediately recalled what transpired between us last night, and I was nervous about facing him, not knowing whether things would be awkward. I almost felt guilty, hoping he didn't think I was leading him to believe that after the kiss we were... I don't know... together again. Sitting beside him, I know he didn't believe that. Hell, he said himself he knew one kiss wouldn't fix things between us no matter how much he might want it.

I'm sad as I remember Christian's leaving today. We've made so much progress this weekend and I'm worried we might backtrack once we're separated again. But this has to happen in order for us to move forward. I know we'll talk often over the next month before we see each other again. I have a lot of decisions to make before then and I need to make the right one, without my husband's influence, not only for my sake, but my son's as well. If he's too close, I know I'll make rash decisions and risk losing myself again.

"Hey," Christian says softly, reaching over to rest his fingers on my wrist. I look up at him, startled. "Don't over think, Ana. One thing at a time."

I nod, my brow furrowing as I wonder how he always seems to know what I'm thinking.

He smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm having the same problem," he admits. "I'm nervous about leaving you and Teddy again. I'm terrified that the moment I go everything we've worked on will be forgotten and by the next time I see you, you'll have changed your mind about wanting to work on us." He's hit every thought I've had this morning. "That kiss last night was..." His eyes flutter close and he lets out a soft growl. "Well, let's just say I'll be thinking about that kiss every free moment for the next month."

I smile. "Me, too," I tell him.

He looks relieved. "Good," he says simply, making me giggle. His smile widens. "I do love that sound, Mrs. Grey."

"I know you do, Mr. Grey. I hope you get to hear it again, often."

"I intend to, Mrs. Grey." The look in his eyes and the sincerity in his tone take my breath away. "But in the meantime, our son needs to get to school, you need to get to work, and I've got a few things to tend to before meeting my plane this afternoon."

I nod, finishing off my breakfast and letting Christian take my bowl to the kitchen while I go back to my bedroom to brush my teeth. When I rejoin the boys, Teddy has his shoes on and Christian is carrying his little backpack.

"Taylor's waiting outside for us," he tells me. "We can drop off you and Teddy so you're not late."

"That would certainly be much appreciated," I tell him honestly. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see we've got a total of forty-five minutes to get Teddy to school and me to work. Normally I'd be racing the clock right now to catch a bus or a cab, so knowing Christian has solved this problem is a relief. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," he says with a small smile.

When we drop off Teddy, both Christian and I walk him inside the school—Christian wants to know where his son is spending his days—and once again, all the mothers and school staff are gaping at him unabashedly. I wouldn't be surprised to see some of them drooling. Christian's only acknowledgment of the attention—as always—is a small smirk.

The time comes for Teddy to say goodbye to his father and I know both of them are taking this parting pretty hard, so I don't rush them, even though I know getting to work on time will be a very close call.

I feel tears prickling behind my eyes when Christian takes Teddy in his arms and holds him so tightly I almost fear he might crush his son. But Teddy's holding him just as tightly.

"I'm going to see you again soon, baby boy," Christian murmurs, his voice muffled by Teddy's hair. "Be good for Mommy. Take care of her."

Teddy nods into Christian's shoulder. "Okay, Daddy," he says in a tiny voice. I know he's crying. "Love you."

A sound resembling a sob pushes out of Christian's throat. "I love you, too, son. More than you'll ever know."

Back on his feet, I take my turn hugging and kissing my son, then hand him his backpack. "I'll see you after school," I tell him. He nods, his lip pouting, and I know it's only a small comfort to him.

Teddy enters his classroom after another long hug and kiss from Christian, looking back at us until he look anymore.

We head back out of the school in silence and though I know he's trying to hide it, I can see Christian wiping at his eyes. "He'll be okay," I whisper as we approach the SUV again.

Christian only nods.

The drive to Canton Publishing is mostly silent and I can already feel Christian shutting himself off from me. I want to reassure him, but I can't think of any words that might be enough, so I hold my tongue. Taylor stops the car in front of my building, exchanges a glance with Christian, and exits, but makes no move to open my door like he normally would. Christian turns towards me and I know he asked Taylor to give us some private time.

"Ana, I cannot find the words to tell you how much this weekend has meant to me," he says quietly, holding my eyes. "And I'm not just referring to the kiss last night. For the first time in seven months, I feel like myself again. I know we had a few bumps in the road and probably a hundred more to come, but like I told you last night, I will prove myself to you. No matter how long it takes, I will wait an eternity for you. I love you, Anastasia. Please be patient with me."

Again, he's rendered me speechless. I think I nod at his words, but it might have been nothing more than a slight twitch of my head. "Okay." It's not a good enough response and judging by the pain that flashes through his eyes, he was hoping for more. I want to tell him I love him and I will be patient with him, but I can't quite form the words. Instead I scoot over the backseat and place a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, hoping this conveys my feelings.

His eyes are closed when I pull away and his breathing is shaky. "Ana, if you intend to go into work today, it might be a good idea if you left now. Otherwise I will not be held responsible for my actions."

My eyes widen at his confession, but I understand. I gather my bag and make to open the door, but Taylor is right there to do it for me. Getting out of the car, I give him a tight smile, then turn to look at Christian again. His eyes have darkened and he's doing his best to hide his arousal and desperation for me. "Have a safe flight," I tell him quietly. "Call me when you get home?"

He nods. "Of course," he says hoarsely. "Be safe."

I finally turn and walk away from him, determined to get to my desk and find some distraction from my thoughts. Distraction comes quickly in the form of Thomas. I've barely set down my bag and switched on my computer before he's standing behind me awkwardly. How didn't I see this coming?

"Hello, Ana," he says softly.

I turn and smile at him, leaning against my desk. "Hello, Thomas. How was the benefit on Saturday?"

He snorts a laugh. "Deathly boring. I only stayed about an hour then headed home. Would have been more interesting if you'd been there, though..."

I blush on cue. "I'm sorry I had to decline the invitation, but..."

He holds up a hand to stop me. "I know; it's fine. I'm the one who should be apologizing; I knew your husband would be in town this weekend, but I couldn't help myself. You've been on my mind since our date."

I smile. "Well, it was a very lovely date," I reply.

"With a more than lovely ending, as I recall," he says huskily. I quickly glance around the office for onlookers. "And I certainly hope I'm not pressing my luck by asking if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow night. Teddy is welcome, of course, if you can't find a babysitter..."

I know he's hinting that he would prefer my son didn't come along, but I've already made my decision about my future with Thomas. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for us to go out again," I say, unable to meet his eyes. "I need to concentrate on myself and my son right now, and considering the reason I'm in London to begin with..." I trail off, not entirely certain where I'm going with this. "Look, Thomas, you're wonderful. More than anything right now, I need a friend. And I'm afraid if we're anything more, I won't have that."

Thomas looks as though he's been hit, but he recovers quickly. "I understand," he says quietly. "I would be happy to be your friend, Ana."

With that, he turns away and heads into his office, closing his door softly and leaving me feeling like the world's biggest bitch. It occurs to me that I've essentially just broken up with my boss and I briefly wonder what that means for my job, but I find myself unconcerned. For one, I doubt the laws about dating in the workplace are much different than the ones in America; despite the fact that Thomas is part owner of the company, I don't see people reacting well if they were to find out Thomas was dating an employee who answered to him directly. For another, even if I were fired for whatever reason, I know I'd never want for anything. It might even be a blessing in disguise; without a job in London, there isn't much keeping me here...

 _Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you?_ asks my subconscious. _It's been one pleasant weekend that ended with a couple more than pleasant kisses, but that doesn't mean everything with Christian is better all of a sudden. Between the memories of what he put you through and his most recent communications with Elena, this is far from better..._

Somehow I manage to focus all my attention on work. Thomas finally comes out of his office an hour or so before lunchtime, treating me surprisingly normal. The only difference in his behavior is that he's less flirty than he has been. I think he's worked out that Christian's visit this weekend has sparked this sudden desire for us to not have a second date, and if this is the case, I'm relieved; it means I won't have to go into all the details. Besides this is between Christian and me, and I have no idea which way it might go.

"I was going to order some takeout for lunch," Thomas tells me after we've gone through a pile of manuscripts. "Are you interested?"

I open my mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupts. Thomas and I look up at the same time and I feel the blood drain from my body. Christian is standing in the doorway, looking between us coolly. It's only now that I realize that Thomas's chair is pulled up right next to mine and his arm is resting behind my back. I can only imagine how this looks to Christian. Especially since he doesn't know the man with his arm around me is the man I went on a date with last week. If ever there was a moment that I wanted the ground to magically open up and swallow me, this would undoubtedly be it.

Thomas slowly stands, looking at Christian suspiciously. "Can I help you?" he asks.

Christian stands at his full height and I see him reverting to his cold alter ego: Christian Grey, jealous and overprotective husband/father and master of his universe. "I'm here to see Anastasia Grey," he tells Thomas, not even darting his eyes towards me.

Thus begins the pissing match. Thomas isn't quite as tall as Christian, but he's pretty close. And it's immediately clear Thomas isn't intimidated by Christian's presence in the slightest. "And you would be...?" Thomas says dryly.

I swear I see a vein popping in Christian's neck as he stares down the man standing beside me. It doesn't help matters when Thomas slides a little closer to me. I'm sending out silent messages to Thomas begging him for his own sake not to try putting an arm around me in some display of being protective.

"Her husband," Christian responds through clenched teeth. I can see his hands at his sides, balled up in fists. "And you?"

I stand up, drawing the attention of the men, both of whom seem to have forgotten I'm in the room. "Christian Grey, this is Thomas Canton," I say, knowing it will only be a second before recognition and realization strikes. His eyes narrow on me and I know he's reached a conclusion, and not only is it one he doesn't like, but one that has every possibility of starting World War III between us today. "Thomas, my husband Christian."

Neither man makes a move to shake hands, which bodes well for me; I can only imagine the looks we would receive leaving the building for the hospital if one of them broke the other's hand...

I glance to my left to find Thomas has put more distance between us in light of the revelation that the man who intruded into the office is my husband. Yet another blow to the man's ego. "Christian," I say, bringing his attention back to me. I almost flinch at the cold glare he's giving me. "I thought you had a flight to catch."

"I do," he says coolly. "But I finished my meetings early and thought I might drop by and take you to lunch."

Thomas shifts his feet a little bit and I look up at him. "Ana and I were about to order some takeout," he says rather bravely. I have to admit, I admire the man's dedication; most others would have probably run for safety to get away from the Christian Grey glare. "You're free to join us, of course..."

I can only recall one other time when I saw Christian's jealousy send him into a blind rage, and that was in Aspen not long after we were married, when another man dared put his hands on me while I was dancing with Kate and Mia. I know if he had been left to his own devices, Christian would have killed that man, and I know if he is left to his own devices today, he would happily kill Thomas without a second thought. As always, I have to diffuse the situation before it gets too far out of hand. This is my place of work, after all, and I want to be able to look my boss in the eye after today. "Thomas, if it's all the same to you, perhaps we can have lunch another time?" I ask him tentatively. I swear I see a triumphant smirk pass Christian's lips for the briefest of seconds.

Thomas sighs in defeat, nodding, and forcing a smile on his face. "Of course, Ana," he says kindly. "I'll see you when you get back."

This, of course, is meant to set Christian off, but I've already grabbed my bag and jacket and walked around my desk towards him. I tug at his hand to get him to end the staring contest and leave the office. He turns abruptly from Thomas, draping an arm around my shoulders to guide me towards the elevator. When we enter, I know there is no chance of sparks flying between us the way they always do when he and I are confined in elevators. Christian is radiating anger and hostility, and he doesn't even glance my way during the ride. He practically drags me from the building and into the SUV where Taylor is waiting for us, and I wait for the inevitable explosion.

Christian is taking several deep breaths in succession, his eyes closed, and I know he's counting to ten; though if I know him at all, he's somewhere around seventy-five. Finally he turns towards me, eyeing me warily—quite the change from the angry Christian I was dealing with only minutes ago.

"Thomas Canton?" he asks quietly. I nod. "As in Canton Publishing?" I nod again, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "And would this be the same Thomas you went on a date with last week?"

"Yes," I tell him, knowing what's coming next.

"You never learn, do you?" he hisses at me.

My head snaps up to meet his gaze. "Excuse me?" I say incredulously.

He's shaking his head. "Your boss, Ana," he says in disgust. "You'd think after working for Jack Hyde you'd know better than to mix up with management."

I pale, but whether it's in annoyance at him for bringing up Hyde or the memory of Hyde at all, I'm not entirely certain. "First of all," I begin in a deathly quiet voice, "Thomas is _nothing_ like Jack Hyde. Second, I can make my own decisions and judgments about people. And third... fuck you, Christian!"

"Fuck me?" he repeats in a shout.

"Yes," I snap. "Fuck you. You have absolutely no right to tell me who I see. You forfeited that right when you fucked Lucy for five months straight. Or have you forgotten why I'm in London?"

I watch as Christian's anger dissipates and transforms into abject misery. "I thought we were working on things?" he asks weakly.

Sighing, my anger goes away just as quickly. "We are," I tell him quietly.

"Then why are you still bothering with him?"

I almost tell him that I've put a stop to things with Thomas, but I can't quite make myself do it. I don't know if it's because I'm still so hurt by the affair that I'm using Thomas as a weapon against him, or if I think I might change my mind about dating Thomas. When my silence continues, I hear Christian sigh, and though I'm not looking at him, I know he's running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"I'm sorry," he tells me quietly. "I just didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time and I thought it would be nice to have lunch. If you want, I can take you back to work and I'll just wait at the airport until my flight."

And there's the guilty feeling again. "Christian, no," I say quietly. "I'm sorry, too. I just was not expecting you to show up at work like that."

He sighs heavily. "Look, I know you're trying to find your own way here, Ana. I'm doing everything possible to let you, despite the fact that thinking about you with another man, no matter who he is, makes my blood boil. And I know it's not the same as seeing what you saw on that video with Lucy. Even if we find out our relationship can't be saved, I will never stop worrying about you or loving you, and that also means I'm not going to stop being jealous if I see you with somebody else."

"I appreciate your concern, Christian," I tell him. "And I understand why you feel the way you do. I'm not trying to hurt you by seeing Thomas and to be honest I don't even know whether I'll continue seeing him. But until I make that decision with absolute certainty, please keep the pissing contests to a minimum."

He smirks at me. "Pissing contests, huh?" he says wryly. "Baby, you haven't seen a pissing contest."

I roll my eyes discreetly and pretend not to see Christian's darkening gaze. "Please trust me with this, Christian," I tell him.

"I do trust you," he replies genuinely. "Ana, I trust you with my life and my son's life. What I don't trust is that fucker you work for who seems to think it's okay to date his employees."

"I'm going to pretend you of all people didn't say that. I seem to recall you asking me numerous times when we first started seeing one another to come work for you." I sigh when he smirks at me in response. "Please just let this go for now." I need him to trust that I know what's best for me and for our son. Maybe that's why I'm not telling him about my decision to not see Thomas anymore outside of work. He still sees me as the innocent naïve college student he met six years ago and that is one of the many things he needs to change his outlook on.

He's staring at me like I've just asked him to cut off one of his hands, but I remain silent and firm to my words. It takes a few minutes, but he finally starts to deflate, leaving only the lost little boy he becomes when his inner defenses are torn down around him. "Okay," he whispers. "I'll let it go. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

I smile sadly, reaching over for his hand, which he uses to almost crush my fingers. "No, you don't," I agree.

We ride in silence a little while longer until Taylor stops the car outside a small bistro. Christian looks over to me a little nervously and it takes me a minute to realize this isn't just any bistro: it's one of the places he took me to on our honeymoon. We spent more time leaning across the table towards each other to steal kisses than we did actually eating. I know why he's doing this. He's trying to remind me of the happy times we had, and our honeymoon was one of the very best.

"We can go somewhere else if you like," Christian murmurs to me, squeezing my fingers. "This was just the first place I thought of..."

 _I seriously doubt that_ , I think to myself. Christian doesn't do improvisation. He's been waiting all weekend for today so he could take me here, just the two of us. "It's fine," I say quietly, uncertain whether I'm lying or not.

He's suspicious of my tone, but he nods and opens his door to get out, giving me his hand to help me out. I'm not even the slightest bit surprised when we're being led to the exact table we sat at the last time we were here, and without even ordering it, the waiter brings over the same bottle of wine we drank then.

"Christian, this is my lunch break," I tell him when he tries to slide a wine glass towards me. "I can't go back to work drunk."

"Who says you're getting drunk?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "Surely _Thomas,_ " it amazes me how much disdain he can put into one word, "wouldn't mind you having a drink with your lunch..."

" _A_ drink," I emphasize, holding up a finger. "Singular."

He chuckles, nodding. "Singular," he agrees. "What are you in the mood to eat?"

We're silent as we scan the menus we've been given, though I know he's taking every possible opportunity to look at me. Once we've ordered our lunch, we each sit back in our chairs, sipping at our wine. I'm scanning my brain for something, anything to say that won't lead us to argue again; I just don't have the energy right now.

"Can I ask you something without you flying off the handle?" I ask, staring into my glass.

He nods silently, his eyes wary and guarded.

"You already know Thomas, don't you?"

His eyebrows rise briefly. "Not him personally," he says carefully. "Though I am familiar with Canton Publishing. A few years ago, when you started talking about wanting to go back to Grey Publishing, I had my eye on the place in case you ever thought of expanding. I knew how much you loved London and the chance for you to be able to come here regularly might make you happy..." He shrugs slightly. "When I approached them about selling, there was some sort of family argument between the siblings that are running things. One person was open to negotiation while another refused flat out. They eventually told me to fuck off and that was the last I ever heard from them, but to my knowledge, Thomas wasn't ever involved with any of the decision making."

I'm staring at him open-mouthed. He was going to buy Canton Publishing for me? This is beyond confusing. Every time I wanted to talk about returning to work, he shot me down leaving me thinking that was going to be the end of it. He never said anything about London or another publishing company.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask in a whisper.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he responds, looking every bit a petulant little boy whose plans were foiled. "It was going to be your anniversary present that year, but when they declined all my offers, I didn't see any reason in telling you about it." He gives me a half-smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "So you can imagine _my_ surprise when I saw where you're working. Looks like you got it anyway."

"I'm an assistant, Christian," I tell him just for something to say. "It's a little different than running a company."

He nods. "It is," he agrees. "And just for the record, I know I didn't tell you nearly enough, but you did an incredible job running Grey Publishing. I was so proud of how quickly you learned how to run things. There were times when you were almost doing too good a job. I didn't agree with some of the decisions you made on the business side of things, but you always proved me wrong, showing me that I might be great at running my business, but I don't know shit at the publishing world."

I'm blushing and I know it. I recall some of the arguments we had over seemingly small things at Grey Publishing—staffing, contracts with certain authors I thought were worth more than Christian believed, other minor details that I didn't think twice about approving or declining—and I recall how he made me feel about five inches tall reminding me that it was because of him I was in charge of Grey Publishing at all. He only made the mistake of saying that to me once since the repercussions involved me staying with Kate and Elliot for three days with our eight-month-old son. The night he showed up on Elliot's doorstep begging my forgiveness led to a night of the most incredible make-up sex we've ever had.

"Better late than never," I say, surprised at the bitterness of my words.

Christian looks as though I've slapped him and I'm immediately sorry. He wanted this to be a pleasant lunch, not one where we're both left feeling awkward with one another. "I know," he whispers. "I'm sorry. There seems to be no end to the things I've done to hurt you. Just know that if you ever want to go back to Grey Publishing, the job is yours, no questions asked."

"Christian..." I say wearily.

He holds up a hand to stop my inevitable protest. "I'm not trying to pressure you, Ana," he says gently. "Hell, I'm not even saying it's yours if you come home to me. The job is yours. Period. Whether you're with me or not. I bought it _for you_."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell him, trying to hold my tears at bay.

Luckily our lunch arrives, providing a more than welcome distraction, and we eat peacefully, occasionally chatting about nonsensical topics. My meal is exceptionally delicious, just as I remember it being on our honeymoon, and the look on Christian's face as he chews his steak suggests he feels the same.

It's not until we're once again at the curb in front of Canton Publishing that the reality of Christian leaving returns. Part of me wants to ask him to stay, while the rest of me is urging me to stand firm in my convictions. The rest of me wins.

"Ana," he says, turning towards me. "We're okay, aren't we?"

My brow furrows. "What do you mean?" I ask cautiously, praying he doesn't think what I think he thinks.

"I don't want to go home thinking you're hurt or angry with me," he explains. "I don't want this weekend to have been for nothing. Correct me if you think I'm wrong, but I think we've made some decent progress..." He trails off waiting for me to correct him, but I don't. He glances out the window at the building. "Well, I wouldn't want you in trouble with your boss, so I should probably let you leave."

I smile at him. "Thank you for lunch," I tell him, leaning over to kiss his cheek, my lips lingering a little longer than necessary, until his breathing hitches. I hesitate before backing away, needing to say one more thing to him before I go back to work. My lips are against his ear and he's holding his breath as I whisper, "I love you, Christian Grey. And I want us to be a family again. I just need a little more time."

When I pull away, his eyes are wide as though he can't believe what he's hearing. "Time," he says faintly, nodding. "All the time you need, baby."

I smile shyly at him, kissing his cheek once more before getting out of the car.

The rest of my day flies by with thoughts of Christian. His plane has probably just taken off and with every second, he's going farther and farther away from me. I want to chastise myself for a moment of weakness after so long of regaining the strength I've lost over the years. But when it comes down to it, despite his many flaws and mine, I need him. Yes, he hurt me, and yes, that hurt is going to stick with me for a long time to come, but all this separation is doing is making us miserable. Not to mention our son.

Thomas has hardly spoken to me since I returned from lunch, but I'm finding myself caring less and less about what he thinks. I'm not entirely certain when I made the decision, but I have decided that when Christian comes to visit next month, Teddy and I will be returning home with him.

Just as I'm gathering my jacket and bag in preparation to pick up my son, my phone rings. "Thomas Canton's office, Anastasia Grey speaking," I say.

"Mrs. Grey. This is Sylvia Moore. I'm one of your son Teddy's teachers...?"

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Moore," I say, listening with half an ear. "What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Grey, the reason I'm calling is because about an hour ago, Teddy was signed out of school by who we believed to have been a friend of yours," the teacher explains. "It's come to my attention that this person was not authorized to sign him out and we just wanted to make sure you approved this person ahead of time."

I have no idea how it is I'm still on my feet. "No," I whisper, "I didn't approve anybody signing out my son."

There's silence on the other end.

"Where is my son?" I demand loudly.

"Mrs. Grey, if you could come to the school immediately, we can talk about this in person."

"I don't want to fucking talk about it," I shout. "I want to know where my son is!"

The other woman continues speaking, but I can't hear a goddamn word she's saying. I'm in somebody's arms, hysterical. How is it a couple hours ago I was on top of the world, prepared to be with my husband again, and now everything has come crashing down around me?

Fuck that. Where's my son?


	13. Chapter 13

I'm sitting in a small waiting room, on the edge of the wooden chair with one hand pinching the bridge of my nose to hold off the headache spurred on by crying and my free one wrapped in Thomas's. It's been nearly five hours since I found out my son is missing. Five hours without any idea whether he's safe or where he is. Five hours when I left probably half a dozen hysterical voice messages for both Christian and Taylor. I don't know if they've even heard them yet, but I've got my cell phone lodged between my left thigh and the chair for when they do return my call.

The police have come in here every half hour it seems to reassure me they are doing everything in their power to find my son, but so far there haven't been any real leads. Of course the first thing they did was pull the security cameras at Teddy's school. I requested to be present when they reviewed it, but they flat out refused, citing that they were in the middle of an investigation and I needed to let them do their jobs. There are times when I truly do appreciate Christian's dominant side and the moments when he gets his way about being allowed to do things most civilians wouldn't be is one of them. I have no doubt in my mind that if Christian were here with me I would have seen that fucking video.

 _If Christian were here, you wouldn't be going through this right now. He would have ensured Teddy's safety at school. Unlike you._

Shockingly, this isn't the voice of my subconscious, but another one I haven't yet heard before. It's cold and mean and blamed me for my son's disappearance. I'm doing everything I can not to agree with this side of my mind, but as the minutes drag on, it's becoming more and more difficult. I should have been able to protect my son from this. Christian would have. And why did it have to be my son at all? Of all those kids at his school, why did they choose to take my baby?

 _If you haven't worked out the answer to that one by now, you're hopeless._

Of all the kids at Teddy's school, he was the only one whose father is Christian Grey, well-known millionaire and ruthless businessman. It's taken me years to adjust to Christian's notoriety in the world. People don't only take notice of his business and philanthropic efforts, but people also obsess about his personal life. This was clearly demonstrated by Jack Hyde. For years Christian has tried to make me understand that his status in the world makes him a target for psychopaths who want to blackmail him or just worm their way in to be near him—it's why he goes to such lengths when he's hiring new staff, whether for GEH, personal security, or others who might possibly come into contact with his family.

So was Teddy taken to be used as blackmail?

In addition to waiting for news on Teddy, I've also been waiting to be questioned by the police. Isn't questioning parents one of the first things they do in cases of a missing child? Shouldn't I be telling them about any known enemies Christian and I may have? Shouldn't they be asking about whether I believe Christian might be behind this? After all, he's not pleased to be separated from his son; what lengths would a man of Christian Grey's means go to in order to have his family?

I tell myself not to be stupid, that Christian would never pull anything like this, no matter the circumstances. He had six months of me being in London to attempt taking Teddy back for himself, not to mention that Teddy was with him for a month before I went to Seattle. If he wanted to do something like that, he would have done it then.

Faintly, I feel someone rubbing circles on my back and look up to find Thomas looking at me in concern and sympathy. He hasn't left my side since I got the phone call and he'll never know how much I appreciate it. I don't know how well I would be handling this situation if I were on my own.

 _Not that I'm ever actually alone..._

For the first time since I moved to London, I met the security team that's been keeping an eye on Teddy and me. They were quick to intercept me as I was leaving work to get to Teddy's school—clearly they'd already known about what had happened. My only question is where the fuck were they when Teddy was taken? Something tells me they're all going to be looking for new jobs when Christian gets a hold of them.

As though summoned by my thoughts, I hear raised voices outside the waiting room. I look up slowly, still holding Thomas's hand and try to make sense of the words. All I know is that they're coming nearer and before I know what it is I'm looking at, the door to the waiting room is thrown open with such force that it bounces off the wall and back until it hits the toe of somebody's boot. I watch the door in slow motion and gradually look up from the boot to the expensive suit pants that I know for a fact are tailor-made for the wearer, then up to the crisp white shirt that's actually partially un-tucked beneath the jacket that matches the pants. His face is pale and full of a mixture of anger, fear, concern, and anguish, and his stormy gray eyes are trained on me. It takes him all of a second to find my hand clutched tightly in Thomas's and I watch as his jaw tightens and his lips nearly disappear as he purses them. The next second, his expression is hard and cold.

"Ana," he said coolly.

Like magnets are drawing me towards him, I take my hand from Thomas's, stand from my chair, and shakily cross the room until I'm pressed tightly against his chest and his arms are wrapped around me. I'm so relieved he's here; he will know how to handle this. He'll know how to get our baby back in our arms. I release several hours of pent up raw emotion—tears, fear, regret. Faintly I hear him making shushing noises in my ear and feel him rubbing my back and arms and cradling my neck. When I calm down enough that I think I can look at him without breaking down into hysterics again, I pull away and look into his eyes, finding them filled with water.

"Christian, I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"Shh, Ana," he says, resting his forehead against mine and taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Ana, I need to know what happened. What do you know?"

I feel the emotion build up again, but I manage to push it back so I can do this. "I got the call at work," I begin as evenly as I can manage. "It was Teddy's school telling me he'd been signed out. The girl in the school's office was filling in for the normal woman and didn't follow protocol for children being signed out. They're supposed to check identification and match it to the person trying to take the child, and if it doesn't match up, they're supposed to call the parents for confirmation. One of the other administration staff came back from lunch just as this person was walking out of the school, with Teddy, and asked the girl who signed him out whether she checked and double checked identification, and that's when they realized Teddy was taken by somebody not on the approved list."

Christian takes a deep breath, nodding. "Who's on the approved list, aside from you?" allowed

"You," I tell him. "Only you and I. Christian, I picked that school because it was supposed to be the safest and most secure. Why wasn't my son safe and secure?"

He closes his eyes as though in pain, shaking his head dejectedly. "I don't know, baby," he says, wrapping me in his arms again. "But I will find out. And I promise you, Anastasia, I will get him back to us, whatever it takes."

I nod into his chest. At some point, he moves us over to sit in the chairs against the wall—I notice we're on the opposite side of the room from Thomas and I know this was a strategic move on Christian's part. "How did you get here so quickly? Why didn't you call me back?" I ask him weakly.

"I'm sorry, Ana," he says sincerely. "When we landed in New York to refuel, Taylor and I turned on our phones and got all your messages. From then on we were rushing to get the flight plan changed to come back here as well as contacting everyone we could think of to help find Teddy. We got back as soon as we could."

Again I nod. We sit together, with his arm wrapped protectively and possessively around my shoulders. All at once I become aware once more that we're not alone in the room. I glance up to find Thomas watching us with an unreadable expression on his face. I try to smile at him, but I don't think I'm entirely successful; he returns a weak grin of his own then averts his gaze towards the door. I have to admit I'm a little surprised that Christian hasn't said anything about Thomas being here. Under normal circumstances he'd probably insist not-so kindly that Thomas leave, but I think his concern about Teddy has managed to subdue his jealous side. At least for the moment...

The door opens again and Christian immediately jumps to his feet, taking me with him. In walk two detectives and Taylor right behind them. "Mr. Grey," the first detective, who can't be much older than I am. "Mrs. Grey. If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions about your son."

"Of course," Christian says briskly, letting the arm around me drop to his side before he takes my hand, tugging me along to follow him.

I'm almost to the door before I turn to face Thomas. Christian reluctantly lets go of my hand so I can go talk to him. "Thank you so much for today," I tell him in a whisper before hugging him. I can almost hear the blood boiling in Christian's veins, and I know his jealousy has returned, but I'm not doing this to get a rise out of him; I'm doing it because I genuinely appreciate the support and comfort Thomas has given me. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Don't mention it," Thomas says quietly, returning my hug. I have the sudden feeling Christian and Thomas are having a silent pissing match with their eyes locked in matching glares. "I'll be at home this evening. Give me a call when you hear something or if you need anything."

I pull away from him with a genuine smile. "Thank you." I turn away from him and go back to Christian who is waiting impatiently at the door, and indeed his eyes are locked on Thomas. I tug on Christian's hand to pull him out of the room where the detectives and Taylor are waiting for us. They lead us down the hall to what looks to be an interrogation room. I suppose this is protocol whenever they're dealing with missing children; they always say in such cases everyone's a suspect.

"Please have a seat," says the second detective kindly. He's an older gentleman who reminds me of Christian's grandfather. The door closes behind us and Taylor stays in the background, leaning in the corner and watching intently. "Mr. and Mrs. Grey, my name is Detective Stokes and this is my partner Detective Avery. We just need to ask a few routine questions to help us find your son."

Christian pulls out my chair for me, then sits beside me, immediately grasping for my hand again as though he's seeking comfort. The detectives sit across from us. "Have you had any leads yet?" asks Christian.

"Unfortunately nothing concrete," says Avery. "But I assure you, Mr. Grey, we've got our top men on the case, as well as the security team you requested aid us." He nods to the corner where Taylor is standing. "Now I will tell you we have video surveillance from your son's school for the time when he was taken. We can't quite make out the suspect's face, but we have determined it was a petite woman with long hair—brown, according to the school—blue eyes."

I feel Christian's entire body stiffen beside me, and as the words wash over me, I understand why: the detective has just described a woman who looks very similar to me, as well as sixteen other women, all of whom have had sexual relationships with my husband. The detective slides a picture across the table towards us and I feel rather than see Taylor standing behind us to get a look as well. I pick up the photo with shaking hands, holding it so Christian and Taylor can both see, and feel all the wind knocking out of my body.

The detectives are watching us closely. "Do you recognize this woman?" Stokes asks us.

"Yes," Christian croaks.

Avery poises a pen over his notepad. "Who is she?" he asks briskly.

Christian lets out a shaky breath, gripping my hand almost to the point of pain, but I don't care. His eyes dart sidelong to me before he answers. "Her name is Lucy Hastings," he informs them reluctantly as I'm still staring at the photo. "She and I..." He trails off, swallowing audibly. "She and I had an affair."

"How long?" Avery asks, scribbling down information.

"Five months," Christian answers.

"When was the last time you saw her, Mr. Grey?" Stokes questions.

"Last week. I was in Germany on business and she showed up at my room unannounced and uninvited. She was upset that I asked her to leave, but she did eventually leave, and that was it."

Avery nods. "And why do you think she would want to kidnap your son?"

Christian shrugs despondently. "I don't know," he says honestly. "Blackmail, maybe. She did threaten it when I ended our affair, but I didn't believe she would do something like this."

"Do you have any reason to believe she might be mentally unstable?"

"Of course she's unstable," I snap, unable to hold my silence anymore. " _She took our son!_ What mentally stable person does that?"

Christian's free hand reaches out to rub my shoulder comfortingly. I shrug him off and pull my hand from his. I can't stand touching him right now, knowing who has my son. Christian sighs and the detectives look between us. "Mrs. Grey, I understand you and your son are living here in London alone. Might I ask why?"

I let out a bitter snort of laughter. "Because of Lucy," I sneer. "Because my husband an affair."

"We're separated," Christian whispers painfully.

The detectives nod, clearly having already put two and two together to work this out for themselves. "Well, now that we have a suspect and a name, it should make things a little easier for us. Miss Hastings's photo has been sent to all the police stations in London and the surrounding areas. We're going to alert all the transportation organizations as well—cabs, busses, the airports. Obviously at this point, we can't give you any guarantees, but we will do anything and everything in our power to ensure she and your son do not leave the city."

Christian and I both quietly thank the detectives and they leave us alone in the room with Taylor. Christian stands and has a quiet conversation with his head of security, and with a brief glance at me, he leaves the room as well. I'm still staring at the photo of Lucy, feeling my anguish at my son's disappearance turn into anger beyond anything I've ever felt. I'm shaking and furious tears are streaming down my face. It's not until Christian kneels down beside me, taking my hands in his that I find an outlet for my anger.

"Ana, I swear to you, we will get Teddy back," he promises again.

But I'm not listening to him. Not listening to his empty words. Not letting them wash over me in comfort. I know who to blame for this... "You fucking did this," I say to him, my voice shaking in rage as I rip my hands from his. He falls back on his heels in shock at my words, his mouth wide open. "You brought that bitch into our lives and now she has our son! I don't know if I'll ever see my son again and it's all because you met some whore and couldn't keep it in your fucking pants!" I'm shouting now, a very small part of me in the very back of my mind wondering why my volume hasn't drawn half the police department towards us. At this point, it might be a good idea if they were here, I think darkly. Christian might need the protection.

"Ana, no..." he says weakly, shaking his head at me.

"Yes, Christian!" I snap. "All you've done lately is cause me pain beyond anything I've ever felt in my life. Just when I think we're on our way back to what we used to be, I'm thrown right back on my ass. Well, I'm done, Christian. Fucking _done!_ " I take a deep breath, wondering if I have the strength to say next what I need to say. "When this is over, when I have my son back, I'm filing the separation paperwork. That's it. We'll work with lawyers or whoever else to get the logistics of custody sorted, but I am _not_ coming back to our marriage."

I'm watching my husband's heart break, but I'm too tired and scared and just too downright pissed off to even consider comforting him. Up until now, a small part of me believed Christian and I could get past this and with time I could forgive him, but this is just too fucking much. I'm sick to death of the problems and drama that comes along with being Christian Grey's wife. I'll always be the mother to Christian Grey's son, which has its own downsides when it comes to safety and lack of drama, but I cannot and will not change that.

"Baby, you don't mean that," Christian begs me, still on the floor. "Please tell me you don't mean it. Anastasia, I swear I will do whatever it takes—"

I stand, shaking my head. "No more, Christian," I say quietly. "No more swearing or vowing or promising or begging. I can't live my life like this anymore. It's over. As it is, I will never forgive you for this, Christian. But you had better fucking hope Teddy comes home in one piece or I will fucking kill you."

Tears are running down Christian's face and he's making no move to wipe them away. My fingers are twitching to do it for him, but I resist. If I touch him, even if it's just the slightest touch, he'll be able to break me down, like he always does. We stare into each other's eyes—dull, lost, and devastated gray to resigned, tired, and fed up blue—for several minutes until I slowly see the shutters lowering in his eyes. His eyes close for a few seconds as he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then stands, his stance that of the dominant CEO. He's in control again.

"If that's what you really want," he tells me coolly, "then I'll give it to you. Do you think you can stand to be in my presence long enough to find our son or would you prefer to wait for news in your apartment?"

I'm briefly thrown back by his bitter tone, but hide it as well as I can. "I want to be here when they have news to share."

Christian nods once, turns, then strides towards the door and opening it, holding it for me. "Have a seat in the waiting room," he tells me softly before I pass him. "I'm going to have a word with Taylor. I'll see if I can't find you a cup of tea as well."

"Thank you," I tell him quietly, quickly heading in the direction of the waiting room.

* * *

That's it. I've lost her. I can't say I honestly blame her for her reaction. Just knowing Lucy is out there with my son is almost as devastating. I can't possibly begin to wonder _why_ Lucy would take my son. Because I made her leave my room when I was in Germany? Because I ended the affair despite her desire for more? And what is it going to take to get him back? I would be more than happy to hand over every last cent in my bank accounts along with every company I own just to have my son back with me and his mother. So if it's money she wants, she can have it all. It's not going to matter much in the end, anyway. I've always said my money doesn't mean shit if Ana isn't with me to enjoy it, and she's all but ended our marriage now, so what the fuck do I want with it?

And what if Lucy wants something aside from money? What if she's using Teddy in some twisted attempt to get me back in her life, like kidnapping my son will make me want to spend the rest of my life with her? Just like Ana, I will never forgive myself if something happens to Teddy, and if it does, Ana won't need to follow through on threats to hurt me; I can handle that on my own...

In the meantime, however, I need to get my son back. If things really and truly are over with Ana, Teddy is the only thing that will connect us in the years to come, and I can't bear to even think about the possibility that I might lose both of them today. I find Taylor with the security personnel he hired to oversee the safety of Ana and Teddy, as well as several police officers, and the new faces Taylor contacted before we left New York, and I know what my first order of business is right now.

"You two," I bark, pointing at the two men I entrusted with the safety of my family. "Get the fuck out; you're fired. Don't let me see you here again."

It seems they were at least smart enough to expect the termination of their employment. They don't even nod in their hurry to escape from my anger. Taylor is watching me closely as though he's expecting me to go after them and beat the shit out of them. Tempting as that is, I have more important things to tend to. After giving the police and security personnel all the information we have on Lucy, they head off to join the search.

"Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Grey?" Taylor asks quietly. "Or for Mrs. Grey?"

"How about my son?" I growl.

Taylor nods. "I'm doing everything I can, sir."

"Well, do more," I snap. To his credit, Taylor doesn't even flinch, and I realize suddenly that he _is_ doing everything possible to find Teddy, and he won't rest until he's done it. "Taylor, if you could see if you can find a cup of tea for Anastasia—Twinings English Breakfast, if possible—I'm sure she would appreciate it."

"Of course, sir," Taylor replies immediately. "Anything for you?"

I only shake my head, dismissing him. I'm torn. Do I head back to the waiting room to sit in tense silence with my wife who hates me or organize more people to find my son? I can't think of anybody else to call; Taylor and I have both exhausted every contact we have, both back home and here. Besides, I really don't want to leave Ana alone for too long. Despite her feelings towards me, I'm still her husband and it's still my job to take care of her, even if the job won't be mine for much longer. I try not to wonder whether Thomas is going to take my place, or how soon that might happen.

Every time I think about walking into that room and seeing that fucker holding my wife's hand I want to punch something. I wanted to ask Ana about him, find out why he was here with her, but I hadn't had the chance. Now I don't even care. And I will not let what might well be the last few hours Ana and I will have together pass with us fighting. Taking a deep breath, I find myself outside the waiting room, forcing myself to open the door.

Ana's head snaps up to meet mine immediately. I see relief and regret and fear in her eyes before she closes herself off from me, regarding me passively.

"Would you mind if I sat with you?" I ask quietly, lingering in the doorway.

She watches me steadily for several moments before eventually nodding. I enter, closing the door and choosing a seat three chairs away from her. Her head is in her hands and I know her shoulders are shaking. It's killing me that I can't be beside her, to hold her and comfort her, but I know she doesn't want my comfort anymore.

An hour passes, then another. Taylor brings us coffee and tea and sandwiches, none of which we eat or drink. Every half hour somebody comes in to update us on the progress. They'd had a report that a woman matching Lucy's description had entered a department store accompanied by a boy matching Teddy's description. By the time the police were made aware of the sighting, she'd already purchased a couple changes of clothing for Teddy along with a grooming kit and hair dye, and left. The natural conclusion drawn from this is that Lucy has planned to disguise my son, possibly to flee the country with him. Ana and I had been standing when we'd received this news and it was all I could do to keep her upright when her legs gave out. I took her back to her chair and sat down with her, ignoring her half-hearted attempts to push me away. She needed my comfort and I needed hers.

It's nearly two in the morning now. Ana and I are on the floor using my suit jacket and her coat as padding, she's curled up in my lap, her head on my shoulder as she sleeps fitfully. She is the only thing keeping me from tearing through London and the surrounding areas to find my son. I can't leave her now...

I rest my head on top of Ana's and feel myself drift off. My attempt at rest is interrupted by a commotion outside the waiting room. Ana startles awake and looks around the room in confusion before turning her gaze to me. "Christian?" she murmurs exhaustedly.

Reflexively, I bend my neck to press my lips against her forehead. "You're safe, baby," I breathe against her skin.

She tenses in my arms and sucks in a sharp breath, and I know she's remembering everything that's happened. "Teddy!" she blurts, trying to pull herself away from me. "Christian, let me go!"

"Ana, stop," I coax, holding onto her. "Listen to me, Ana. There hasn't been any news in a few hours, good or bad."

"So we still don't know where Teddy is?" she begs.

I start to answer her, but Taylor bursts into the room, startling both of us. He looks around frantically until he finds us on the floor, then frowns perplexedly. "Taylor?" I bark.

"Mr. Grey, we've found Teddy," Taylor tells us hastily.

Ana and I scramble onto our feet, rushing Taylor and demanding more information. "Where is he! I need to see my son!" Ana is yelling.

Taylor raises a hand, asking us to let him explain. "He's been taken to the local hospital." Ana gasps and backs up into me, my arms encircling her immediately, holding her against my chest. "He's not hurt, they don't think, but they want to be certain."

"And Lucy?" I ask darkly.

"In custody at a different police station," Taylor tells me. "They're questioning her now."

"Christian, I need to see my son," Ana tells me, turning in my arms.

I nod. "You'll drive us?" I ask Taylor.

"Of course, sir. The car is waiting out front for us."

Without hesitation, I take Ana's hand and we rush after Taylor, desperate to get to our son.

* * *

The drive to the hospital takes longer than anything I've ever experienced. Taylor is driving at speeds that shouldn't be possible inside the city limits, but considering we've got a police escort, I don't give it much thought. Neither Christian nor I have spoken a word since leaving the police station—I don't think I could form a complete sentence if I tried—not that there was anything for us to say. I heard the things I said to him inside the interrogation room, but I feel as though it was an out of body experience rather than a real memory.

I am completely numb right now. Mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. The only thing on my mind is my baby. I think Christian is holding my hand as we pull up to the hospital's main entrance, but I can't be sure. We both practically fly out of the backdoor on Christian's side and rush inside, hardly waiting for Taylor to put the car in park. We're immediately met by Sawyer who leads us without a word to an examination room, outside which two or three police officers stand as guards. My eyes momentarily darted towards them, but my focus is on that room as Christian reaches out to open the door.

I somehow stumble across the room, pushing through more police officers and nurses to get at the bed where my son is sitting cross legged looking a little frightened by all the excitement around him. He sees me and Christian and his face lights up and his little arms shoot out, reaching for me. He's in my arms now and I am blind and deaf to all activity around us. I know I'm probably crying into his hair, but his arms around my neck tell me he doesn't plan on letting go at any time soon.

At some point I think Christian joins the hug as well, and for this moment, we're together again. Our son is safe and in one piece, and for now, the rest doesn't matter.


	14. Chapter 14

It's approaching three in the morning and I've been sitting in this chair since I got Teddy home and into bed a couple hours ago. He's fast asleep, his dreams undisturbed, and I only hope they remain this way. I know mine won't be nearly so peaceful throughout the foreseeable future.

I have no idea where Christian has gone. Last I saw, he was on the phone with god knows who. Taylor and Sawyer are outside my apartment along with a team of security who seems to be settling in for the long haul. For the first time in my life, I have no qualms about being surrounded by a group of men I don't know. Over the last few hours, I've had the exact same thought running through my head that tonight could have turned out so much differently. Teddy could still be missing. Or worse. And of course, those thoughts take me right to the person who had him in the first place. I've had some pretty dark thoughts over recent months about what I would do if I ever got my hands on Lucy, but they don't hold a candle to the ones I'm having now. Messing with my marriage and fucking my husband for months on end is one thing, but the bitch kidnapped my son. If I thought I could get out of the apartment, I'd find where she was being held and only one of us would come out alive. And it wouldn't be her.

"Ana?"

I close my eyes, my jaw is tensed, and I really don't want to do this right now. Christian has given me ample space and time to get my thoughts in order, and I know what's coming next, so it's time to make some really difficult decisions. "What, Christian?" I ask in a whisper, not taking my eyes off my son.

He enters the room and stands at the foot of Teddy's bed, his gaze drifting between me and Teddy. "How is he?"

"Fine," I say shortly. "Tired, confused, but not hurt, thank god."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod. "Can we talk?" he asks reluctantly.

I nod myself, leaning over to kiss Teddy's forehead before standing up and leading the way out of the room. Christian pulls the door almost closed, and we head out into the living room where we sit on opposite sides of the couch. I wait until he's settled before beginning. "Well?" I whisper, unable to even look at him.

He sighs heavily. "I don't even know where to begin..." He's looking at me beseechingly like he's waiting for me to give him some sort of guidance in this conversation. When I only look at him passively, he finally takes the hint that I have no intention of helping him through this. "Lucy will not be going anywhere for quite a while," he says grimly. "Her bond is set high enough that no one will even consider bailing her out."

This is only a very slight comfort. "And why did she have my son?" I ask, staring straight at him. I know full fucking well he has some sort of answer and I also know he's going to try keeping the truth from me. To protect me, of course.

His face crumbles slightly at my question, a flash of anger that I know isn't directed at me crossing his face. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asks, his tone radiating fury. I tilt my head to the side, cocking my eyebrow in response. He runs his hands through his hair. "The reason she gave the police is that she took Teddy from school so that she could start getting to know her future stepson."

I'm staring at him, my brain and mouth unable to form any response. Christian is watching my reaction closely, waiting on my response. "Her future stepson?" I question, not intending to make it sound as accusatory as it comes across.

"No," Christian is saying quietly but firmly. "Ana, I _never_ made her think that she and I—"

"I don't care," I interrupt. And I really don't at this point... I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm taking Teddy out of that fucking school. Clearly he's not safe there."

Christian nods his agreement and sits back against the arm of the couch, watching me closely. "Ana," he says quietly, "did you mean what you said at the police station?"

I look up at him sharply and he actually flinches. "Don't ask me that right now Christian," I warn him harshly. "You will not like the answer."

His shoulders slump in defeat as he nods. He probably thinks I said what I did in the heat of the moment—which is true, but I meant every word. This was too much, more than I was ever prepared for, and I might have been pushed much too far this time. The jury is still out on that one... As it is, though, it's taking every ounce of self-control I have to be in the same room with him without exerting some form of physical violence towards him. He knows he fucked up. He knows how pissed off I am with him. My anger extends towards Lucy as well, of course, and the bitch better hope she and I never meet, but it's because of Christian that she's been brought into our lives at all.

"For what it's worth," Christian begins thickly. He's not crying, but I don't think he's far from it. "I am sorrier for all this shit than you will ever know. I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get back here to you. I'm just sorry. And I know it's not enough and that it might never be enough."

I nod in acknowledgment of his words and though I didn't want to discuss our relationship right now, the words are rushing out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Why now, Christian?" He looks at me blankly, not understanding the question. "Teddy and I have been in London for seven months, but only now have you done something to fight for me. I know you better than you think I do and I know you could have flown here without blinking an eye, but you didn't."

He rubs his eyes before answering. "You want the honest answer?" he asks. I nod once; he sighs. "At first it was because I didn't believe you'd actually left me, despite taking the majority of your belongings and leaving behind your wedding and engagement rings. That lasted about a month." He's speaking so matter-of-factly and I know it's because he won't be able to get through this otherwise. "Then I had this belief that you'd come to your senses and come back to me. When _that_ didn't happen, I realized I'd fucked up the best thing that has ever happened to me. I spent a lot of time angry at myself. I'm still beyond angry at myself. There was a very brief period that I was angry with you for daring to leave me. That ended when I was stupid enough to say that aloud to Elliot and he punched me in the face."

My mouth drops open and I have the insane desire to burst out laughing. "He punched you?" I ask incredulously.

He nods, a hint of a smile on my face at my amusement. "Knocked me flat on my ass," he confirms. "He hasn't done that since I was about sixteen. I was too shocked to even think about hitting him back and just let him help me up before letting him tell me exactly what he thought about our situation. Even though nobody actually knew what I'd done to make you leave, they all assumed it was my doing. Elliot was no exception. He told me I needed some grand romantic gesture to convince you to come home. He then took the opportunity to tell me I had no right to be angry with you and that all you've ever done from the beginning is support me and how much of a shit I am for doing anything to chase you off. He wasn't wrong. About any of it. As for the grand romantic gesture..." he gives me a lopsided smile, "I'm still working on that one."

"Go on," I say quietly, trying not to smile at the thought of Christian arranging a grand romantic gesture for me. Whatever it would be would be something I'd remember for the rest of my life. Whether it worked or not would be debatable.

He sighs, realizing I'm not going to be distracted by his usual panty-dropping smile. "Once I turned the anger solely on myself, I made the decision to see Lucy for what I intended to be the last time. I needed to cut all ties to the person who helped me destroy my marriage if I had any hope of getting it back. Like I told you already that went badly. After that I kept closer tabs on the security team Taylor hired—out of his own pocket, mind—to keep an eye on you and Teddy while you were here in London."

I blink rapidly. " _Taylor_ hired...?" I repeat

Christian nods. "Yes," he confirms. "I wanted him and Sawyer and Ryan trailing you at all times, but Taylor had already gotten the team together." He shrugs. "Taylor also wants to speak with you in private at some point, to apologize for that team not being around when you needed them most. He tried handing in his resignation over it. I refused to accept it, of course; I know if it had been him on duty, this never would have happened. Yet another thing to add to my list of fuck-ups."

"I don't blame Taylor," I tell him plainly. The silent implication of who I do blame hits its mark when Christian winces.

"I know you don't," he answers. He sighs before continuing. "Anyway, I knew I didn't have a chance of getting you back until I managed to work on my own shit. I certainly couldn't have come to you the way I was after last seeing Lucy—I was a mess, emotionally, physically... All of it. Not a minute went by when I didn't think of either you or Teddy. I started seeing the new therapist Flynn referred me to, and I still see him once a week at least. Between the two of them, I got my thoughts and emotions in line."

"When did you sell Escala?" I ask him quietly. I've wanted to ask him since Kate first told me, but I haven't found the right moment. Apparently I've found it.

He raises an eyebrow, silently asking who told me about the apartment.

"Kate," I reply.

"Ah," he says, rolling his eyes. "Of course. I sold the penthouse before I went to Lucy. I hardly hesitated over the decision; as much as I loved the place, there are so many years of dark memories wrapped up in it."

"There were good memories, too," I remind him. "You and me. It's where you proposed initially. It's probably where Teddy was conceived... Wasn't all bad."

He smiles sadly. "True," he agrees. "But it's also where you left me the first time. It's the place where Jack Hyde nearly got you—if you hadn't disobeyed me that night you went out drinking with Kate, he would have. It's where I took on fifteen submissives. It's where I was during that video that has all but ended our marriage..." He drops his gaze from me. "The memories that mattered most to me happened in the big house on the Sound. You and me and our son. It should have been the place where our other children were conceived. Without you, Ana, that place is nothing. Without you, nothing in my life has any real meaning to me."

"Did you ever bring Lucy to the house?" I ask, trying not to let his words affect me like I know he wants them to do.

"No," he answers firmly. "Never. I did a lot of fucked up shit in that five months, but I never brought her into our home or our bed."

I hadn't even considered the thought of him fucking Lucy in our bed. If I'm to maintain any semblance of strength, I have to believe he's telling the truth, at least about that. "And before today—yesterday, I mean," I say, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Did she ever meet our son?"

Christian hesitates.

My mouth drops open. "You. Fucking. Bastard," I growl at him. "You introduced that slut to our _son?_ "

"Ana," he says quietly. "Please, listen."

"That's why he went with her!" I say loudly, giving no regard to the fact that my son is asleep down the hall. "That's why he didn't put up any goddamn fight when she went to take him from school! She was _Daddy's friend!"_

There is absolutely nothing he can say in defense of his actions and he knows it. My curiosity is begging me to ask when this meeting occurred, but I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around what I'm being told. If I hadn't made up my mind about what to do in terms of my relationship with Christian, this would have decided it for me. Before I realize it, I'm on my feet, unable to take anymore, and I head down the hall towards Teddy's room—I need to see with my own eyes he's okay and sleeping peacefully. In a flash, Christian is behind me, his hand reaching out for my arm. I'm forced to stop as he turns me to face him, his gaze begging, but all I can do is stare at the hand that's clasped around my upper arm not quite hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make it uncomfortable. He looks as well, seeing his fingers turning white and immediately releases me, instead putting his hands on either side of my face.

"Ana, I didn't introduce our son to her on purpose," he tells me quickly, probably knowing that at any second I'm going to regain control over my muscles and slap him. "I swear to you it was an accidental meeting."

Despite my exhaustion, I cross my arms in front of me when he drops his hands and glare at him. "When?" I demand.

He sighs in what seems to be relief that I'm going to hear him out. "The week you went to your mother's," he says softly. "For her birthday. I took Teddy out to lunch and Lucy happened upon us. She introduced herself to Teddy, Ana. After that, I told her in no uncertain terms that my son was off limits to her and we left. That was it. It never happened again. If that is why Teddy left school with her, he's got one hell of a memory."

"Why are you even bothering with me, Christian?" I ask suddenly. "Lucy was perfect for you, wasn't she? Looked like me, acted like me. She's probably a hell of a lot better with high society mingling than I ever was. You told me you thought you loved her. So when I left, why did that suddenly make you realize you were doing something that was wrong?"

Christian stumbles back a couple steps until he hits the wall, staring at me open-mouthed. "You really don't know?" he asks faintly. My brow furrows. "Fuck, Ana! You're everything to me. You always were. I didn't go back to Lucy because you're the one I want. You know that saying you don't know what you've got until it's gone? Well, it's true. If you want the god's honest truth, Anastasia, yes, there were times when I thought about some sort of future between Lucy and me. But after you left me, I started to realize no one can ever replace you. You're the mother to my son, my best friend, my first love..." He sighs heavily when I don't respond appropriately to his words. Am I supposed to swoon or something? "Ana, I don't know how to explain it. All I know is that I've finally realized again that you are the only woman I want for the rest of my life," I've heard this before, "and I'll do anything to prove it," and this, "please just tell me what it'll take."

I shake my head. "Christian, I meant everything I said yesterday," I tell him tiredly. "I meant that I love you and I want to be a family again, but I also meant what I said at the police station. I can't handle this anymore. Every time I think I've adjusted to everything that comes along with being with you, something else comes crawling out of the woodwork. I've spent the last seven months trying to get back everything I lost when you had your affair and in one weekend, you come in and use all your Christian Grey charm on me and convince me we can have everything again, and next thing I know, everything is fucked again. I'm tired, Christian. I need distance right now."

His mouth hardens in a thin line. "You think I'm leaving the two of you after what happened tonight?" he growls.

I roll my eyes. "I don't give a fuck where you go right now, Christian, but I'm going to bed." With that, I leave him in the hallway and head into Teddy's room to curl up beside him in bed. I can see Christian's shadow through the open door, still slumped against the wall. Too much has happened and I can barely wrap my head around it. The longer I lay here with my son in my arms, I expect to feel the tears begin anew, but I have none left to shed. I suppose I've done so much crying over the last seven months I've actually dried myself out.

Huh. Didn't know that was actually possible.

I eventually manage to fall asleep, my dreams filled with images of the family I once believed I could have. One that consists of me and Christian and Teddy and maybe another child. A girl perhaps that looks like me, since Teddy is his father's carbon copy. I know they're just dreams now, and eventually they'll become nightmares, haunting me until I can't handle it anymore.

* * *

It feels like hours before I'm able to find my way off the floor of the hallway. Just over twelve hours ago, I believed with every last fiber of my being that I might actually get the happily ever after I never thought I'd deserve. Our problems were far from fixed and I knew there were issues we still had to work out...

She told me she loved me. She told me she wanted us to be a family again and all she needed was a little more time. And now... She fucking hates me and I fucking deserve it. I brought Lucy into our lives and the bitch kidnapped my son. I never would have thought her capable of this. During the five months that we were seeing each other, Lucy was nothing but sweet and funny and a joy to be around. Other than the obvious, she wasn't one to surround herself with drama. We never fought, she never displayed any sort of psychosis, but this just proves I didn't know her in the slightest. The woman I nearly threw away my marriage for, the woman I thought I wanted to be with... What the fuck was I thinking?

More than once tonight I've wanted to head towards the police station where Lucy is being held. Taylor is standing outside the apartment right at this moment to prevent that exact thing. It pisses me off to admit, but he's probably right to do so: the only thing that could come from me being in any room alone with Lucy right now would be landing myself in jail as well. Perhaps once my temper calms I could convince Taylor to take me to the police station by assuring him he could remain at my side the entire time. Any lingering good feelings I once had for Lucy are long gone right now, leaving behind anger and hurt and questions of what she thought she might accomplish my kidnapping my son. It was done with the intention of getting my attention. Maybe she believed if she had Teddy I might come running to her; she was always under the impression that the only reason I stayed with Anastasia at all was for the benefit of our son.

Suddenly I'm exhausted and I get off the floor, intending to check in on my wife and son before heading for the guest room for the remainder of the night—Ana said she didn't care where I go, so I assume she won't mind. If she did, I'd be willing to camp out in the hallway; like I told her: I'm not leaving them alone after what has just happened. The obvious threat—Lucy—has been apprehended and removed, but that doesn't mean this is over. That's clear the moment the apartment door opens and Taylor enters, looking around until he finds me. He doesn't look pleased.

"Is anyone in any immediate danger?" I ask tiredly, rubbing my eyes.

Taylor's eyebrow rises. "No," he answers.

"Is anyone hurt?"

"No."

"Then it can wait until I've gotten a couple hours' sleep."

Without further acknowledgment, I retreat down the hall. I know he won't call after me, especially since he believes he's in the shithole with me, and I usually wouldn't take advantage of that, but I really do need a little bit of rest. Teddy's bedroom door is ajar, so I push it open, locating both my son and his mother fast asleep in his bed. I want nothing more than to crawl in beside them—there's room in the bed—but I know Ana won't welcome me right now. Instead, I pull over an armchair in the corner of the room, find a blanket and pillow, and set myself up so I'm falling asleep watching them. For the first time since I said goodbye to Ana after our lunch together, I feel peaceful.

* * *

When I wake up, it takes me a minute or so to work out where I am, why I'm there, and why I feel as though I haven't slept in weeks. I lift my head enough to keep from waking the little boy sleeping in my arms and find the full grown man sleeping in the armchair beside the bed. It dawns on me suddenly what happened yesterday and the warm fuzzies I was initially filled with to find Christian standing guard all night are gone. I hold Teddy more tightly in my arms, trying not to think of how close I'd come to losing him yesterday, all because of the woman my husband chose above me. I don't care what he says; that's what he did when he started the affair. Now after all this time, he wants me again. How am I not supposed to feel this is about convenience? He couldn't even articulate _why_ he wanted me back rather than running to her again. And given what she did yesterday, not to mention her surprise arrival at Christian's German hotel room, she's not exactly gotten over him. She'd probably jump at the chance to be the next Mrs. Christian Grey. Who wouldn't?

Teddy squirms in my arms and makes a whimpering noise. For a moment I fear he's having a nightmare of some sort. I then realize he's wrapped so tightly in my arms that he's uncomfortable. Immediately I loosen my hold. Glancing up at the armchair, I find Christian's dark eyes trained on me and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he's holding his breath as though he believes if he stays still enough, I won't see he's awake.

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity until he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak. He hesitates, though, and almost immediately closes his mouth, then stands from his chair. Christian approaches the bed and leans in. I stiffen the closer he gets, but relax when all he does is smooth back Teddy's hair and place a kiss on the boy's forehead before leaving the room. I relax, feeling exhausted again. Why is it that being angry with Christian always drains my energy?

I sink against the bed again, reveling in the warm weight of my son in my arms. I have no idea what time it is, but a glance out the window tells me the sun is rising. As much as I don't want to let what happened yesterday affect our lives, I've already made the decision that Teddy will not be going back to his school. If I have it my way, he won't be leaving my sight until he's fifteen. Briefly I debate getting him a private tutor and having him homeschooled; there is no doubt in my mind that Christian would support my decision one hundred percent and would make it a point to take it ten steps further by hiring a team of security guards to ensure Teddy's safety all day, every day. But I know I can't do this to my son. I know how it feels to not be allowed to leave my home without running it past a committee only to have Christian deny my request to make a quick trip to the grocery store. I'll just have to keep myself on guard for my son. Maybe Christian will hire somebody to keep a closer eye on things around here...

The first step in this is to inform Thomas I won't be coming into work today. I untangle myself from Teddy, somehow managing to not wake him, and head down towards my bedroom in search of my cell phone. I've got several text messages, missed calls, and a couple voicemails. Most of them are from Christian and I wonder briefly how I didn't realize he had tried to contact me before his plane left New York to come back here. One of the text messages is from Thomas, checking in, seeing if we've had any luck finding Teddy. I quickly type out a reply assuring him Teddy is home safe and sound, he wasn't harmed in anyway, and I won't be coming to the office today. Once it's sent, I drop the phone on my bed and head towards the closet to find a fresh set of clothing before I head into the shower. My phone buzzes less than a minute later. It's from Thomas expressing his relief that Teddy is safe and telling me not to worry about work for the next couple days. He really is rather sweet; I think most bosses might tell me to take the day to be with my son, but be at my desk on time tomorrow morning. I would feel guilty about ending things between us if it weren't for the fact that all my emotions seem to be on extended vacation after yesterday.

After my shower, I dress quickly and check on Teddy before heading out in the apartment in search for something to eat. To my surprise, Christian and Taylor are sitting at my dining table talking quietly. I clear my throat to announce my presence and both men shoot to sit upright, an unidentifiable expression passing between them.

"Can I get you anything to eat, Jason?" I ask, not quite ready to start inquiring into whatever they were talking about.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Grey," Taylor responds quietly.

I nod. "Christian?" I say as I enter the kitchen, realizing it won't do Taylor any favors if I piss off his boss this morning by ignoring him.

"No, thank you, Ana," Christian answers in the same tone.

Moving around the kitchen, I'm aware that the men are watching my every move, though probably for much different reasons, and by the time I've gathered the things to make Teddy's favorite breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, Taylor is excusing himself from the apartment, leaving me alone with my husband. I do everything possible to ignore Christian as he leans against the wall in the kitchen.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks softly as I begin to flip pancakes.

"Better than I thought I would," I answer honestly, not looking away from the stove. "How about you? I can't imagine that armchair is comfortable to sleep in for any real length of time."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. "I wanted to be nearby," he explains simply.

I nod, knowing exactly where his thoughts were last night. Yesterday has the potential to cause all three of us nightmares and Christian wanted to be close in case Teddy or I woke in the middle of the night needing comforting. At the same time, he was staving off his own nightmares and achieved that by sleeping near enough to us that if he woke, he could immediately see that Teddy and I were both safe.

Teddy is still asleep when I finish breakfast and I don't want to wake him, so I hand Christian a plate and gesture for him to sit at the table before I join him with my own plate. We eat silently for a few minutes and though I know neither of us has much of an appetite, we keep on doing just that to keep our hands and mouths busy. Every time I glance at him, he's staring broodingly at his food, picking at it between thoughts. I'm curious about what's going on in his mind, but at the same time, I'm not in the mood for the patented Christian Grey brush-off if he's not in a sharing mood.

Finally, I break the silence. "I won't be going to work today," I tell him, taking a sip of my orange juice. He looks at me, his eyebrows raised in question. "I need to be with Teddy today and there's no way in hell he's going back to that school."

Christian nods, sighing. "I'm probably pushing my luck, but I have to ask," he begins. "I don't suppose this was enough to convince you to come home or at least somewhere nearby..."

I glare at him. "Don't," I warn him. "I haven't changed my mind about a thing. Now more than ever I need distance from you." I sigh when his face falls in disappointment. "Look, we said a month before we would see each other again. I'd like to hold to that; I need time to think about what I want and what's best for Teddy."

"So that's it?" he demands. "Even after what happened to Teddy, you're not going to admit that you need my protection?"

My mouth drops open. "Your protection?" I repeat loudly. "Christian, it's because of you we nearly lost our son! How do you think you can protect us when you're the one bringing the dangers to our doorstep?"

His jaw tenses and I brace myself for a fight. "I'm not leaving either of you here alone," he says sternly.

I roll my eyes. "What are you going to do, then, Christian? I'm not going back to Seattle yet. You've got a fucking empire to run. It's not like you can just bail on that to sit around watching us all day long." His gaze wavers very briefly and I've now got a heavy feeling in my stomach. "Tell me you didn't..." I beg.

"Didn't want?" he asks.

"Christian, what did you do this time?"

He eyes me cautiously before sighing. "Nothing yet," he admits. "But I have looked into the possibility of working from London for the foreseeable. And I may have looked at a couple apartments."

I stare at him in disbelief. "You did that last night?"

"Not exactly," he says evasively. When I continue to glare, he jumps from his chair, begins to pace and runs his fingers through his hair. "I told you I had meetings yesterday before you and I had lunch. That's what the meetings were about." He shrugs as though it's nothing for a man to consider a move to another country on a whim.

 _Haven't we been through this?_ My subconscious is particularly exasperated this morning. _When was the last time he did anything on a whim? You don't think he's had this planned out from the get-go?_

"And?" I ask resignedly.

He shrugs again. "And I found an apartment as well as a place for me to set up an office. I've wanted to expand to England for a few years anyway, so now's as good a time as any."

Somehow, I'm not surprised by this. In fact, my only surprise is that it's taken him this long to make a decision of this sort. I can't deny the thought that he'll be close by has its appeal. Teddy would see him much more often. _I'd_ see him much more often, even if I haven't quite worked out whether this recent event with Lucy might be the last straw in our marriage. I have to decide whether the future of my and Christian's relationship will be anything other than amicable for our son's sake. At this point, I honestly don't know if I can go back to my life with him. I can't remember the last time we had a few months without some sort of drama and I'm tired of it. Drama is all part of having Christian in my life and there will always be something going on, but it will be my decision how much I have to actually deal with it.

"Ana?" he says hesitantly.

"Yes?" I respond.

He sighs heavily. "There's something you need to know," he says reluctantly. "And I want you to know it before you find out from somebody else. We've already discussed my tendencies to keep things from you until it's too late and I've promised to do whatever it takes to change—I have to start somewhere, right?"

I'm hanging on his every word, trepidation filling me at his words. Something I need to know. By the sound of it, it's something I won't react well to; the only time he uses that soft, patient tone is when he has bad news of some sort and wants to break it to me gently. "What happened?" I whisper.

"Taylor brought something to my attention this morning," he begins, reaching into his back pocket for a folded piece of paper. "He's currently investigating it more deeply and neither of us will rest until we find out exactly what's going on." Slowly, as though it's causing him pain to reveal this to me, he hands me the paper. "This is the sign out sheet from Teddy's school. The police had it in their possession, but didn't hand it over until Lucy was in custody. It's probably a good thing they did; that list would have thrown them off Lucy's trail, which is what I think she was hoping for."

I nod faintly as I unfold the paper and begin to scan the names until I reach the bottom line. Under the column for the student's name is _Theodore Grey._ Beside it is the time at which he was signed out, an hour before I was notified. That's another issue that needs addressing. The third line has a printed name, and I swear my heart stops beating when I read the name: _Elena Lincoln_. Beside it is a signature.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I say, staring at the paper.

"It's not Elena's handwriting," Christian interjects. "It's Lucy's. Obviously the protocol of requesting identification wasn't followed, or it would have raised several red flags. I don't know right now how Elena is involved with this, or if she's involved at all, but I promise you, I will find out."

"They know each other?" I have no idea why this is my first question, but that's what comes out.

Christian squirms in his seat. "Lucy is involved in several of the same social circles as Elena. And my mother, for that matter. And before you ask, yes, Elena knew about me and Lucy." Why am I not surprised... "I'm not proud of it, but I did confide in Elena."

I should be shouting at him again. I should be angry and hurt, and probably a million other emotions, but I'm not. I'm not sure if this is a good sign or not. Glancing at Christian, he seems a little disconcerted at my lack of response as well. "Have you spoken to her?" I ask evenly.

Christian's brow furrows at my question. "No," he says as though it should have been obvious. "I told you, Ana. I'm done with her. I'm letting Taylor and his team handle this. Believe me, baby, I want nothing more than to demand answers in person from both her and Lucy, but it's more important to me right now to regain your trust. I don't know how else to do that."

To say I'm shocked at his words would be the world biggest understatement. Only a year ago, if something like this had happened to us in Seattle, Christian wouldn't have hesitated to confront the people he suspected to be involved, whether I wanted him to or not. He wouldn't have rested until he got to the bottom of exactly what was going on. He would have left Teddy and me alone for hours at a time until he regained his control, but here he is, telling me flat out he's allowing someone else to take control of the situation because he needs to be with us. The gesture is a huge one for him. It's almost enough to melt my heart.

I drag my attention away from him when I hear Teddy leaving his bedroom for the bathroom. There's a sudden need for me to put distance between myself and my husband, so I stand, ignoring the surprised look on his face at my lack of response.

"I'm going to check on Teddy," I murmur as I pass him. "And I'm going to have a very long conversation with him about going places with strangers..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the delay in updates. Between a cold I can't shake, internet issues, and real life obligations, I just haven't had time. I'll try to update more often, but no guarantees. Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed. More soon!


	15. Chapter 15

The entire day is spent in the confines of the apartment. Ana hasn't left Teddy's side for more than a few minutes at a time and I haven't let either of them out of my sight more than necessary. I haven't had a private moment with my wife since our son woke and I don't see one coming until he goes back to bed later this evening. My phone has been in use for most of the day—between making calls about pressing charges against Lucy, arranging a temporary restraining order against Elena until we're able to work out her involvement with the kidnapping and get something more permanent in place, and arranging lawsuits against my son's school, I'm surprised I haven't got cramps in my arms from holding the fucking thing against my ear.

While Teddy ate his breakfast, Ana and I sat on either side of him, talking to him about what happened yesterday. Turns out he did recognize Lucy from the one meeting they had months ago, and though he told the school's staff he didn't want to go with her, Lucy managed to convince them it was fine, that Teddy was just shy. Lucy told Teddy they were going back to Seattle to meet me at her house. Teddy inquired about his mother, whether she was going, too, but of course Lucy told him Ana would meet us later as well. They spent most of their day wandering London, they had lunch, Lucy even bought Teddy a couple toys and he seemed sad that he'd forgotten those toys when the police picked him up. I assured him I'd buy him whatever he wanted and Ana nodded her agreement—I have a feeling we're going to be spoiling our boy for the next few weeks at least. The thing that set Ana off was when Teddy told us Lucy asked him to call her Mommy, because she and Daddy were going to get married and live together. I thought Ana was going to explode when she heard this. I wasn't exactly calm myself, but managed to explain to our son that Lucy would not be part of our family, that she did something very bad by taking him from his school.

We then went through telling him never to go with strangers, no matter what he's told. If the person trying to take him isn't family, he is not to go with them anywhere. Period. For a minute, I think he thought he was in trouble for doing something he knew he shouldn't have done, but we promised him this wasn't the case and we were just relieved that he wasn't hurt.

As far as I know, Ana is still determined to remain here in London. If that's the case, so will I. Being in New York and learning that something had happened to my son was the worst feeling in the world, and I never want to experience that again. I need to be near them, whether Ana wants me anymore or not. I'll willingly give up everything I have to keep them safe. I won't stop fighting for my family and Ana will never know how horribly I feel about what happened yesterday. The fact that Lucy was behind it was like rubbing salt into an open wound, reminding me once again how badly I fucked up.

What I haven't told Ana, and am putting off telling her for as long as possible, is that the apartment I found is in this building. Two floors up actually. I know she'll go ballistic and accuse me of being an overprotective, controlling bastard (all of which is, of course, true), but I've promised myself to give her the space and independence she craves while indulging my own insecurities. A bit much, maybe, but I can't be apart from them anymore, and if this is the closest I can get, I'll take it.

Though we've done everything possible to keep this situation private, it was only a matter of hours before the media caught wind of my son's kidnapping by my former mistress. Taylor pulled me aside to inform me that reporters were camped outside the apartment building and the story was about to hit in the States. This meant I had to contact my family to tell them what was going on. None of them would ever forgive me if they learned about this from the news. My parents took it all surprisingly well. I tried to focus on Teddy, hoping to skate over my relationship with Lucy, but of course they brought it up before I ended the call. They weren't surprised to learn about the affair, which made me wonder how long they suspected the true reason for Ana leaving me. I could clearly hear the disappointment in my mother's voice—aside from Ana, she is the only person who can make me feel ashamed of myself with nothing more than a sigh.

After Mom and Dad, I called Mia and Elliot, both of whom expressed their relief that their nephew was safe and their anger at what I did to my wife. I'm going to make it a point to avoid both of them as long as I can; unlike my parents, my siblings have no qualms about letting me know exactly what is on their minds and will do so at the top of their voices and with the use of violence if necessary.

Ana also called her family. As cowardly as it is to admit, I'm relieved that Ray Steele isn't a fan of flying or my physical well-being might be at risk. Carla has no such fear and I will be forever indebted to Bob for keeping his wife from coming to London to kick my ass on her daughter's behalf. Not that Ana couldn't take me if she wanted to. I broke her heart over and over. I nearly cost her the life of her son. The fact that she hasn't kicked me out of her life for good is a miracle. I'm crossing my fingers that she doesn't change her mind about me being here right now.

We have dinner as a family, despite the tension between Ana and me. Teddy is back to normal already—happy, carefree, and energetic as ever—and I'm beyond relieved that he hasn't suffered any ill effects. Ana gives him his bath, I read him his bedtime story, and we both kiss him goodnight before leaving him to sleep.

"Sir?"

I look over to the apartment door to find Taylor standing there. "Yes?"

"A word in private?" Taylor requests.

My eyes dart to Ana who looks between us briefly and turns to walk away, presumably to catch up on her reading. The decision I make next is one I never thought I'd ever make, but this is all about me changing my old ways, the ways that caused my wife to leave me. "Is it something to do with the kidnapping?" I ask Taylor.

His brow furrows slightly, but he nods.

"Then you can tell Ana as well," I say firmly. Both Ana and Taylor are looking at me as though I've grown a second head. I increase my glare at Taylor and he finally snaps out of it. Ana and I sit on opposite ends of the couch while Taylor awkwardly sits in the armchair beside my spot.

He sighs heavily. "We've gotten word from the police station that Miss Hastings is requesting a meeting with you, sir," he reports.

My head falls back against the couch as I immediately regret my decision to include Ana in this discussion. I know she's glaring at me; I can feel it. "Why?" I ask resignedly.

"She says she needs to speak with you and if you agree, she'll give a full confession and accept her punishment," Taylor says briskly. "The police don't recommend the meeting, but are willing to arrange it depending on your decision. My recommendation is to avoid Miss Hastings at all costs."

I've always taken Taylor's opinions to heart, whether I agreed with them or not. I know his opinion on this matter was made with thoughts of my marriage in mind. He's almost as eager as I am to bring Ana and Teddy home; the number of times I've snapped at him for the slightest things that didn't even involve him are endless. "Anything else?" I ask.

"No, sir," Taylor says.

A moment later he's headed out to the hallway where he and the security team are stationed.

"You're not actually considering this," Ana says quietly.

I look over at her warily, hoping this doesn't start another argument. "Admittedly, I'm debating the merits," I answer slowly. "But I'm leaning towards not."

She nods thoughtfully, her brow furrowed as she continues to watch me. I'd give anything to know what she's thinking right now. "Maybe you should meet with her."

"I'm sorry, what?" I say dryly, wondering if the time has come that I'm truly in need of a hearing aid, because there is no way I heard her correctly.

Ana sighs. "You said yourself she isn't going anywhere. I have to admit I'm curious as to her motive for doing this, rather than speculating—I've got some really fucked up scenarios in my head right now and knowing the truth might be a relief."

All I can do right now is stare at her. "Okay, I'm really confused right now," I say. "You wanted me to not see her again, yet here you are encouraging me to see her in jail. I can't help but wonder if this is some sort of test..."

She sighs and I think there's a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth for a nanosecond. "It's not a test, Christian," she tells me with a hint of exasperation in her tone. "No, I don't ever want you to see her again, just like I never want you to see Elena again. But we're in this, Christian. There will be a trial and we will be asked to be there, so we'll have to see her. I'd like to have my answers now while I have time to adjust. If you decide to do this, though, I want to be there."

Alarms immediately sound off in my head. I'm already picturing Ana and Lucy in the same room together and it's not a pretty scene. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," I tell my wife tentatively. At this point, I'm terrified of rocking the boat that's already sinking at an alarming rate.

She rolls her eyes. I have to subdue the urges I usually have at this gesture as I doubt she would appreciate me launching myself at her with every intention of ravishing her right here on the couch. "You think I'm going to leave you alone in a room with that bitch?" she asks bluntly. "Not happening, Grey."

There truly is no cuter sight than my wife displaying her jealous side. I know better than to comment, all things considered, especially since her jealousy has been justified. "Ana, I haven't even had the chance to think about whether I want to be in a room with her. At the moment, you're not the only person having violent thoughts in regards to Lucy."

I swear she almost smiles. "The difference being your violent thoughts just began last night. Mine have been growing and evolving for seven months. I've even got a few favorites I think about when I'm particularly upset to cheer me up."

My eyebrows rise again. "I'd ask for an example, but I fear some of those thoughts involve me as well."

"You'd be right to fear that."

For a change of pace, there isn't as much conviction in her tone as there might have been only a few hours ago, though I think this is more to do with exhaustion than her softening in her anger towards me. Though it might not be a good move on my part, I feel I need to address the situation before she decides to go to bed for the night. "Ana?"

She sighs. "What, Christian?"

"You were right."

I feel her gaze on me, though mine is locked on the corner of the coffee table in front of us. "About?"

"This is my fault. I've spent so much time dedicating myself to keeping you and our son safe that I don't even realize I'm causing the trouble. I deserve whatever you decide to do in terms of our marriage. I do nothing but hurt you more times than I've made you happy. Seeing you last night at the police station while Teddy was missing... It broke my heart. And I know you said if something happened to him you'd never forgive me, but you should know if something had happened to him, I'd never forgive myself. I'm going to have a hell of a time forgiving myself as it is." I drop my head into my hands. "If you decide to move on, I understand. I don't deserve you. I never did and I have no idea what possessed me to believe I could ever be good for you. Thomas seems... decent..." I cannot believe I'm saying this right now... I still want to beat that fucker's head in. "If he's who you want, I support you. Just know I'll never stop caring for you or loving you, and if you ever need me for anything, I'm only a phone call away."

When I finally find the strength to look up at her, she's staring me as though I'm the stupidest man on the planet. True...

"Christian, there's nothing between me and Thomas," she tells me exasperatedly. "Yesterday morning when you dropped me off at work, he asked me out again and I told him I couldn't see him anymore, because I wanted to focus on myself and on Teddy."

You know that feeling when you're walking down the stairs and you miss a step? Yeah, that's about how I feel right now. "What?" I ask dumbly.

She nods.

I shake my head. "But when I picked you up for lunch, he was sitting practically on top of you." The memory of how close my wife was sitting to that fucker in the office is one I'll have permanently etched in my head for years to come.

"Because we were working, Christian," she says, pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Call me naïve if you want, but despite how it looked, it was purely professional on my end. And before you bring it up, he was with me at the police station because I needed a ride from work to the school, then to the station. After that, he wanted to make sure I was okay and to be honest, I didn't want to be alone."

 _And because he wanted to get in your panties,_ I add silently. I may be stubborn, but I have learned a few things from Ana—like when to keep my mouth shut. "So what does that mean for us?" I ask, unable to keep the hope out of my voice.

Her only response initially is a raised eyebrow. "Before yesterday afternoon, it meant I had every intention of coming home to Seattle. I hadn't decided whether that meant being with you, but I was probably leaning towards that conclusion."

"And after yesterday?" I ask reluctantly.

She falls back into the couch, staring straight up at the ceiling. "Christian, please don't make me do this right now," she begs. "I asked you to give me a month to decide what I wanted to do next. Please honor that."

The fact that she didn't tell me to go fuck myself is a huge improvement, as well as a shock. I thought she was ready to write off our relationship for good this time and would be running off to be with Canton. I can't hide the smile that is growing across my face. She frowns at me.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" she asks cautiously.

I shrug at her, not willing to have her burst my bubble right now. "Nothing," I tell her as I glance at the clock. It's later than I thought it was, but despite my exhaustion, not to mention very sore back from sleeping in that damn chair all night, I'm not ready to say goodnight to Ana just yet. And judging by the look on her face, she's not overly eager to head to bed either. I can't think of anything to discuss that we haven't discussed to death already, or anything that won't start us fighting again.

"I could use a drink," she says, standing. "Would you like one?"

"Sure, thank you," I reply.

She gives me a forced smile as she heads into the kitchen. To keep myself busy, as well as keeping myself from following her into the kitchen to watch her like a creepy stalker, I stand up and cross the room to look at some of the photos she has on her wall. I feel myself smiling at the memories. Most of them are of Teddy at various stages of his life, starting with a collage of all the sonograms from Ana's pregnancy. My stomach flips over as I recall my reaction the night my wife told me we were going to be parents—yet another thing that I will never forgive myself for. It took me nearly losing her after the Jack Hyde incident to get my head out of my ass and realize just how badly I wanted our child. The number of times I've nearly driven my wife away is painfully high. I suppose losing her was inevitable...

To my surprise, there are several photos of Ana and me—our wedding, our honeymoon, curled up together in our bed when we first brought Teddy home. All three of us are fast asleep, my son on my chest, my wife pressed up against my side. I have no idea who took the picture, but it's a beautiful one.

For the first time in the history of our relationship, I have no idea Ana is standing beside me until she speaks. "Those were good times," she says softly.

I nod, still staring at a photo of us dancing at some benefit of my parents'. Looking at the couple in that photo, I almost don't recognize them as us. They're so obviously in love, lost in each other's eyes as though they are the only people who exist in the entire world. The man is holding the woman tightly against him; the woman has her arms around him, one hand running through his hair. My own hand jumps to my hair as the feeling of her fingers in my hair returns suddenly. "What happened to those people?" I ask, not realizing I'm speaking aloud until she sighs heavily.

"They got lost somewhere along the way," she says wistfully. "Caught up in a life they took for granted. They stopped trusting each other, forgot all the promises they made to each other... They fell out of love with one another."

"I never fell out of love with you, Anastasia," I tell her immediately, turning to look at her.

She smiles sadly. "Loving me and being _in love_ with me are two different things, Christian. Despite everything, I still love you, but I'm not sure I'm _in love_ with you. And I don't want to put words in your mouth, but I think it's the same for you. Until we get that back—if that's even possible—we won't be able to give our son the life he deserves, the one that involves both of us."

I want to contradict her, to tell her that of course I'm still _in love_ with her, but she deserves more than words at this point. She needs something real, something to prove what she means to me. And I can only think of one way I can accomplish that... "Ana?" I say, my heart beating a frantic beat somewhere in my throat.

"What, Christian?"

I lick my lips, desperately hoping she won't reject me again. "Would you like to go out with me?"

Wracking my brain, I can't think of a time that I've used that phrase with anybody. I've never needed to. Before Ana, I never dated. Every woman I've been with has been either a Dominant, a submissive, or, in Elena's case, all the above. I wasn't ever interested in anything more than that, until her. She changed everything for me. I think back to some of the thoughts I had during my affair with Lucy and I'm disgusted by them. At one point I actually believed I met Anastasia and let her change me from the man I had been so I would be ready for when I met Lucy. I know now it's not true; I let Ana change me because I would do anything to have her. And in order to have her, I needed to change. She gave me everything and my affair with Lucy was nothing more than me throwing all that back in my wife's face with a note telling her that her time was a waste and I didn't appreciate her in the slightest.

If she knows me at all, she'll know what it means for me to ask this question of her. _Yet another first, Mrs. Grey..._

"I'm sorry, what?"

Okay, not the response I was expecting, but understandable... I smile shyly at her. "I'd like to take you out," I tell her softly. "Just you and me. Taylor and Sawyer can watch Teddy for an evening, and I can take you to dinner and wherever else you might like to go."

She blinks at me a few times as though she's still processing the meaning of my words. "Like a date?" she asks skeptically.

My smile widens. "Yes, Anastasia," I say, letting some of my amusement seep into my tone. "Exactly like a date. It occurs to me that while we've had evenings out together, I've never properly asked you out on a date."

Her brow crinkles and her nose scrunches as she considers my words, and I'm pretty sure that if I wasn't in love with her before this moment, the expression on her face would send me head over heels. "I don't understand," she says softly. "Is this another one of your brilliant ploys to try and convince me to come home with you?"

Brilliant, huh? I smirk inwardly. "It's not a ploy," I assure her, then cock my head in thought. "Well, maybe it is... But it's more of a ploy to do this correctly, the way I should have done it from the very beginning. I want to start over, if that makes any sense. I want to get us back to _that_ ," I gesture blindly at the photo on the wall of us dancing together. "And I'm willing to lay it all on the line. I understand if you don't want to. I've told you before that I would wait an eternity for you and if you're not ready for this right now, I'm in no rush."

She's staring at me with wide, watery eyes. "Can I think about it?" she asks faintly.

 _It's not a no..._ "Of course," I agree. "No pressure, Ana."

She nods, then looks down at her hands as though just realizing she's carrying two glasses of brandy and hands me one before drinking hers down in a few gulps. "I should get some sleep," she says quietly. "Are you staying here again, or...?"

"Not tonight," I tell her, fighting the urge to reach out and tuck an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. "I think I'm going to head to the apartment I looked at the other day."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Yes, about that... When you say you _looked_ at it, that actually means you bought it, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps," I respond.

She sighs, but doesn't seem particularly surprised. "And where is this apartment?"

"Not far," I say evasively.

"How not far?" she asks, crossing her arms.

I debate for a few moments on how to answer her question without her getting upset. I then realize she's going to figure it out at some point, so I might as well get it over with. "About two floors above this one," I say resignedly. She stares at me for quite a long while, and then shakes her head to herself as though she had expected exactly that answer. "I didn't initially intend to move into this building, Ana. In fact, I tried to find places on the other side of the city so I could give you your space. When it came down to it, this really was the better choice for me as far as price and space go." She's still staring at me with a dull expression and it's making me nervous. "Ana, I promise I will try not to intrude on your life anymore than you want me to, and I'm sorry, but considering yesterday, I feel it would be best that I was near, just in case."

I would give absolutely anything to know what she is thinking right now. She's getting better and better at hiding her emotions from me, and I can't help but think we're backtracking somehow on all the progress we've made so far.

"Right," she finally says. "Well, I should probably get some sleep. Teddy has been cooped up all day and I know by tomorrow he'll need to rid himself of some of that pent up energy."

I smile at her. "If you want help, let me know."

She sighs. "Anything else you need to tell me? You didn't try to buy Canton Publishing again?"

"No," I assure her. "And I won't. If I did, I fear you would be driven to violence and probably rightly so." I think there might be a hint of a smile on her face, but it's gone too quickly to know for certain. "Get some sleep, Ana. I'll see you in the morning."

She nods and hesitates before she turns away from me as though she wants to do or say something. I stay where I am until she makes up her mind—she sighs, shakes her head minutely, and shoots me a tight smile. "Good night, Christian," she whispers.

I wait until she's disappeared down the hall before gathering my jacket, phone, and shoes, then quietly leave the apartment, hoping my decision to remain in London doesn't blow up in my face.

* * *

Gasping, I sit straight up in my bed, my eyes wide, my heart beating erratically in my chest, and a cold sheen of sweat covering my body. I close my eyes briefly before glancing over to the bedside table at my alarm clock. 3:47AM. I've only been in bed a couple hours before my dreams decided to run wild in my head. I don't remember much, but the overwhelming need to see my son remains. Quickly, I throw the blankets from my body, not bothering with slippers or a robe as I rush down the hallway, throwing open Teddy's bedroom door. The second I see him, I relax and lean against the doorframe. He's here. He's safe. He's still sleeping soundly.

I tiptoe into the room towards the bed and drop to my knees beside him and just watch him for several minutes, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest. I half-expect Christian to come in any second until I remember he's in his new apartment. Rolling my eyes, I smooth back Teddy's hair and kiss his forehead. I can't say I'm surprised that Christian has bought an apartment in my building. The only thing that surprises me is that it's taken him this long to do it at all. He assured me he hasn't and won't buy Canton Publishing, and for now I'll trust his words; I'm tired of being suspicious of him all the time. We've got enough problems without adding my paranoia into the mix.

Only a week ago I would have been beyond angry that Christian had taken it upon himself to move closer to us without consulting me in the slightest. Hell, even _two_ days ago I would have had my share of anger. On some levels, I am a little angry about it, especially since his new apartment is in the same building as mine, but at the same time, there is a sense of relief. Those hours I spent at the police station wishing he were there with me to help get me through my son going missing are still painfully vivid in my mind and I don't want to go through anything like that again. It's a relief knowing he's only a phone call away, and if anything happens, he'll be there within minutes if he can. This entire situation has just proven I'm utterly out of my depth and more than once I've considered throwing in the towel, calling Christian, and telling him to take me home to Seattle. Every time I've managed to come to my senses the moment my fingers touch my phone, though.

I do want to go home, but every time I think about it, the hurt I'm feeling returns to the surface. Everything from Lucy to Elena... Christian is starting to open up to me about things and it seems he's being more honest than he's been in years. The problem is that I still have doubts about what he might not be telling me. He's spent the majority of our marriage secretly meeting with Elena Lincoln and I had no idea; god only knows what else he could have been hiding from me. I need to be able to trust him again—with everything. And I have no idea how to go about regaining his trust.

Part of me is bitter and resentful towards Christian right now for deciding to move into my building. One second he says he understands my need for independence and distance from him, then the next he pulls something like this.

 _One day at a time..._

For all I know, he has every intention of allowing me to have the space I desire while putting his own mind at rest about our safety. Teddy will be over the moon to know his father is so close. I smile softly at my son. This is the best thing for him, especially after yesterday. He can see Christian as often as Christian's schedule permits—I'm still incredibly curious as to how my husband plans on operating his business here...

With a sigh, I push myself onto my feet, tuck Teddy's blankets a little tighter around his little body, kiss his forehead, and head back to my bedroom, feeling much better now than I did before I came in here.

* * *

Five days have passed since Teddy was kidnapped by Lucy and I'm starting to relax into my life again. Despite my concerns that Christian would become the hovering overprotective man he sometimes is, things have gone on rather smoothly. Together we found a new school for Teddy, a private one where protocol for checking students out is so strict even Christian and I would have to go through strict screenings to get him, and Christian seems pleased with the choice. He is still very insistent about security and our son now has his own little entourage—Ryan arrived in England three days ago and has been charged with essentially babysitting Teddy whenever he isn't under the watchful eye of Christian or me. I thought it might have been a little overboard, though, when Christian mentioned two more security team personnel were currently undergoing very stringent interview processes and would be joining Ryan in a few days, but I know better than to say anything about it.

It's come as a surprise how much distance Christian has given me lately. He joins Teddy and me for dinner, helps me tuck him into bed, we talk for an hour at most, then he leaves for his apartment. Our conversations have been focused solely on our son and he hasn't brought up our relationship at all since asking me to go on a date with him. I can only imagine how impatient it's making him that I haven't yet given him an answer, but I still don't know what I want that answer to be. On the one hand, I'm very curious as to what he might have planned, especially since he mentioned Elliot's advice about a "grand romantic gesture". But on the other hand, I know this is another one of his ploys to win me back. He's using his talent for extravagance just as he did when I first met him.

 _Not really fair to assume you know exactly what he's got planned,_ my subconscious chides. _Give him a chance..._

I roll my eyes to myself as I rush into Canton Publishing. This is my second day back since the kidnapping, and it's going to be a busy one. Thomas sent me an email a couple days before my return to inform me his siblings have decided to allow an outside investor into their business. Apparently they're having a few issues keeping their finances in the black and thought it might be helpful to have a little more backing. Of course my first thought was Christian had done exactly what I feared he might. When I showed him the email, I watched his face very closely, and he was genuinely surprised at what he was reading and assured me he had no intentions to interfere with my career. I know he wasn't lying, because he knows if I were to find out that he was, that would be the end of everything between us. I need this right now.

"There you are, Ana!"

I spin around on my heel as I reach my desk to find Thomas rushing into the office, a strained smile on his face. "I'm not late, am I?" I ask nervously, glancing at my watch to confirm I'm twenty minutes early.

"No," he assures me, his smile turning more genuine. "It's not that. Our investor has arrived early and she's currently in the conference room with my brothers and sister, scrutinizing the last ten years' worth of spreadsheets. They're sitting there justifying every little expenditure we've ever made and she hasn't said more than half a dozen words since her arrival."

I feel nearly every muscle in my body relaxing at the mention that this new investor is a _she_.

"Anyway, she has asked that some of the editor's assistants be present for the meeting, and given the personalities of some of the others, we've decided to invite you," Thomas tells me. "You won't have to do or say much of anything, I don't think, but I think she wants an idea of what she's getting herself into. Can't really blame her for that."

I recover from my shock and find my voice. "Oh, sure," I say, blinking rapidly. "I mean, thank you for the invitation to sit in."

Thomas' smile widens. "Don't mention it. I've got a stack of the manuscripts you've been working on in the conference room already, so as soon as you've gotten yourself settled, we can head in."

I don't have time to get nervous as I stash my belongings behind my desk and let Thomas lead me towards the conference room two floors up. The doors are closed when we arrive and I take a minute to covertly smooth down my clothes and hair, uncertain what to expect.

Thomas glances over his shoulder at me. "Just relax," he urges me. "I really think this woman has more bark than bite, though to be honest, I can't say I'd want to test the theory. Looks to me like she could tear a man apart with her perfectly manicured hands if she wanted."

Grinning at his words, I wait for him to open the door. When he does, he steps aside to allow me to enter. "Pardon our tardiness," he says to the group as I go into the room. I see several faces I recognize who smile tightly at me—I assume this to be a side effect of whoever they're meeting with this morning—a few I don't that I assume might be Thomas's siblings, and one that stops me dead in my tracks and freezes the blood in my veins.

This has got to be a nightmare.


	16. Chapter 16

Over the last few days, I've gotten a taste of what it would be like if Ana and Teddy come home to Seattle but decide to live apart from me. I can't honestly say I'm the biggest fan of this arrangement, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I see my son every morning to take him to school and Ana to work, then again in the evening to take them home. I've had dinner with them a couple times, and everything so far has gone pretty smoothly. The worst part about it is saying good night to them and returning to my empty, cold apartment. That's part of the reason I sold Escala—before Ana came to live with me there, I was fully aware that my apartment was cold and unwelcoming. That was perfectly fine with me; I was comfortable there and that was all that mattered. I wasn't interested in impressing my submissives, though every one of them was drawn to the view over Seattle. It wasn't until Ana that I looked around my surroundings and realized just how impersonal the place was. It wasn't until Ana that I considered my apartment in Escala to truly be my home, because she was the one I came home to every night.

After we were married and Teddy was born, we kept the apartment, but visited rarely, usually only if we were in town late and didn't want the drive home or when I was working on an important deal that needed my constant attention. Escala was a place where I could be on several phone calls at once, not have to watch my language around an impressionable toddler, and not annoy my wife for not joining my family for dinner on time. Not until Lucy was it used by anyone aside from myself or Ana. The thought of ever going back there again and having tainted memories of destroying my marriage was too much for me.

But if this is what I have to do to have my wife and son in my life, I'll do it.

Ana still hasn't answered my question about taking her out on a date. Neither of us has brought it up again, though I'm growing more and more impatient about it. The fact that she doesn't believe we're in love with each other anymore has been on my mind almost as much. I could understand if I've hurt her so deeply that she's fallen out of love with me. But the more I think about it, I don't think she has. If she had, she wouldn't have hesitated in filing for a legal separation, closely followed by divorce papers. And I know if I mention this to her, she'll tell me it's in our son's best interests that she and I remain civil, but remaining civil and having dinner every other evening are two very different things. I don't want to be too arrogant about it, but at worse, I think she might just be confused about how she feels. The hurt and fear and frustration have her so twisted around... I know the feeling. I also know that no matter what she believes, I am still very much in love with her. There may have been a brief period over the last year when I believed otherwise, but losing my wife due to my own stupidity snapped me out of that pretty quickly.

I guess it's up to me to prove our love to her. If only I knew where to begin.

Probably the most complicated thing about my sudden relocation to London has been in regards to my business. All my assistants and partners are on Seattle time which is several hours behind me, which means I've been pulling some very late nights this week. The only person aware of my current situation is Ros and that's only because I need her to take over the day-to-day business. I haven't told her every detail, but I think she's smart enough to have worked it out on her own. For a while, I caught myself looking over my shoulder for her—Ros always liked Ana from the very beginning, and I guess all women stick together regardless of their sexual orientation.

Currently it's still far too early to make contact with my office in Seattle so I'm going through emails and spreadsheets and potential business ventures to kill some time before I can start making phones ring. I've already begun the process to permanently cut my ties with Elena Lincoln and her own business ventures. I can't blame Ana for disbelieving my promise to rid myself of Elena once and for all; no matter how many times I seem to shake myself of the woman, I always seem to find my way back to her for one thing or another. I tell myself it's a business relationship and nothing more—it is true that I haven't touched Elena sexually since I ended that side of our relationship and I have no desire to change that. The thought of her touch in any form is repulsive. I couldn't tell you why I don't feel the same about this apparent emotional relationship I can't seem to get past. Since I was fifteen, Elena was the only person to know every one of my darkest secrets and I suppose that connection runs deeper than I ever even realized.

And therein lies the problem: putting any relationship over the one with my wife. Despite whatever problems we were having, I should have sat my wife down and told her what was going on. I could rattle off a list of excuses that include any discussion would have led to an argument and I truly do hate arguing with Ana. We have a way of pressing each other's buttons in a way nobody else can and we're both far too stubborn when we're arguing to even consider giving into the other person. It would only be an excuse, though; and I know it's not nearly good enough to justify confiding in somebody I know my wife despises more than any other.

Then there's Lucy. Again, I've only myself to blame for what went on between us as well as what happened with Teddy last week. I can deny it all I want, but I know I led her on during our affair only to drop her when Ana left me. I believe she was in love with me and that blinded me and my feelings about her enough that I didn't put a stop to it when I should have. She made me feel good during a time I didn't really have much to feel good about. Taking my son from his school in the middle of the day was a ploy to get my attention. Well, it worked, but I don't think this was the reaction she was hoping for. I still haven't decided whether I want to see her and hear what she has to say, though I think Ana was right: it'll be better for us to know whatever there is to know before we have to face Lucy in a courtroom. I just hope this doesn't blow up in my face the way everything else has done lately.

"Sir."

I look up from my computer screen to find Taylor standing in the door of my office, his jaw tensed. "What is it?" I ask warily. That look on his face always has a tendency to set my teeth on edge and this is no different.

"I just received a call from Sawyer," Taylor reports, entering the room a few steps. I can't help but notice he doesn't come within arm's reach of me. My brow furrows. Sawyer is hanging around Canton Publishing to keep an eye on Ana. "Before we dropped off Mrs. Grey at work, someone else arrived."

"And...?" I say leadingly. I'm not sure I like where this is going.

"Mrs. Lincoln, sir," Taylor tells me. "Apparently she's attempting to become an investor in Canton Publishing."

* * *

Time has slowed down considerably as I stare in shock at the head of the long wooden table sat in the middle of the room where Elena Lincoln is perched on a chair, her ring covered, perfectly manicured hands folded in front of her. A smirk covers the bitch's face and her narrowed eyes are gleaming at me. It doesn't escape my attention that she doesn't seem the least bit surprised to see me here and that only serves to piss me off even more.

"Ana?"

Thomas clears his throat behind me and I'm suddenly reminded that we're surrounded with people. I snap myself out of my daze and push aside the sudden desire to either jump over the table to claw Elena's face off or turn tail and run. Whichever option I settle on, it would just be giving into whatever plans she has and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of anything right now. I take one of the empty chairs at the other end of the table, placing myself directly across from Elena, and Thomas sits beside me.

Thomas's sister Tracy, the one currently running Canton Publishing, is looking at me suspiciously as she begins the meeting. I block out every word, instead focusing my stare on Elena, wondering what the fuck she's doing here.

 _Well, we already know that,_ says my subconscious, sharpening her claws and focusing her own glare at the Bitch Troll. _She's investing in a publishing house where you just happen to work._

Of course this was a very carefully calculated plan. When does she do anything just by coincidence? She's a lot like Christian in that regard. I swallow back the bile rising in my throat along with that thought. It doesn't take much thought to remind me of the three million dollars Christian gifted her for her supposed beauty salon chain in Seattle and I'm immediately suspicious. Christian said she managed to screw up the aforementioned salon chain and I wonder whether there ever was a salon chain.

 _There might have been. You only started working at Canton a few weeks ago. How could she have known months ago that you'd be here?_

I'm only in the meeting half an hour when I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. I know before pulling it out to look at the caller id who's calling and I'm actually relieved to know Christian found out about what's going on before I have a chance to tell him. There isn't much I can do about his call right now; I'm still in shock about Elena being here at all to have made any decision about my future at Canton Publishing and I don't think my legs would support me if I suddenly fled from the room to answer the call. Knowing it will set off Christian's temper, I have no other choice right now than to reject his call and send it to voicemail. I glance up to find Thomas watching me and I shoot him a small, tight smile, placing my phone on my leg until his attention returns to the meeting. When my phone vibrates again to tell me I've got a message from Christian, I open the text program and quickly type him a response:

 ***In a meeting. Will call later. Please don't rush the building; I'm fine***

After sending the message, I glance up to find Elena still watching me, her smirk more defined. She knows what I'm doing and who I'm texting, and it's clear she doesn't care. I get a response almost immediately:

 ***WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON OVER THERE?! WHY IS ELENA THERE?***

Sighing, I respond:

 ***It seems she's taken an interest in publishing and has decided to buy into Canton Publishing. I don't know much else at this point.***

To my surprise, I don't get another message from him, though this does nothing to set me at ease; with my luck, he's currently en route right now. I do my very best to pay attention to the meeting. They're discussing the last five years' profits and projections for the next year. Elena is asking questions every so often, though I couldn't tell you what it is she asked; every word she speaks sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me.

There's a soft knock on the door and everyone stops speaking, looking at one another in either annoyance or confusion before Thomas calls for the visitor to enter. My heart is beating rapidly until I see it's only Sawyer poking his head into the door, his eyes looked solely on me.

"Can we help you?" Tracy asks impatiently, clearly having no idea who Sawyer is. He's kept a low enough profile since he's started tailing me to work that I doubt anyone I work with knows he's even around.

"A word?" he says quietly to me.

I would be embarrassed about being singled out in a meeting like this if it weren't for the fact that I've been searching for any excuse to get away from Elena before I commit murder in front of my bosses. Shooting an apologetic smile around the table and glaring at the Bitch troll for good measure, I quickly excuse myself and join Sawyer outside the conference room.

"Mr. Grey has just arrived," he informs me, his tone full of sympathy.

"Of course he has," I say in a sigh. "Surprised it's taken him this long."

Sawyer's lips twitch in a smile. "Well, as I understand it, traffic was heavy."

I smother my laugh and follow Sawyer to the elevators. Just as he's pushing the button to open the door, someone calls my name from down the hallway. I sigh heavily as we spot Thomas walking towards us quickly. "Just a second, Luke," I say.

"Mrs. Grey, I really don't think we have time—"

I glare at Sawyer in annoyance, something I don't normally feel towards him. "Christian can wait," I tell him firmly. "I told him already I was fine, but he insists on interrupting my work day. He can wait a few more minutes."

Sawyer is giving me a look that tells me I'll need to assure Christian I'm behind my tardiness in meeting him and not Sawyer but nods, waiting for me beside the elevator door.

Thomas reaches me with a look of utter confusion on his face. "What the hell was that?" he asks me incredulously.

I sigh, wondering how much I should share with him to make him understand. "I'm sorry I interrupted the meeting, Thomas, but I think there's a bit of a conflict of interest between myself and Mrs. Lincoln," I explain carefully. _The conflict of interest is, of course, Christian Grey._ "And if she's going to be a partner in this company, I can't continue to work here."

Clearly Thomas wants to ask for more of an explanation, but I really don't know what else there is for me to tell him. It's not really any of his business, and besides, if I keep Christian waiting any longer, he'll be rushing up here.

"I'm sorry," I tell Thomas sincerely. "I'll have my desk cleared out before tomorrow morning. I have to go..."

With that, I step into the elevator with Sawyer again and watch Thomas' bewildered face slowly disappear as the doors close. "How pissed is he?" I ask Sawyer.

"Approaching thermonuclear," Sawyer reports. "But if it's any consolation, I don't think any of it is directed towards you, ma'am."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Would that really be a consolation to you, Luke?" I ask rhetorically. He sighs in response. As the elevator descends, I think about what's going to happen now. I don't want to quit my job at Canton Publishing, but there is no way I will be working for Elena fucking Lincoln, not after everything she's done. And that's without knowing what her role in my son's kidnapping might have been. I'll have to look for another job if I want to stay in London. I know Christian will insist I don't need to work, that he can take care of me, but that option seems counterproductive to my desire for independence.

 _You could always go back to Seattle,_ my subconscious suggests. _The only thing that was holding you back was your job and now that's gone, maybe it's time to go home..._

As the elevator doors open, I sigh, immediately scanning the lobby area for Christian. He's not inside, though; he's outside leaning against the black SUV, his eyes trained on me. I'm a little surprised he remained outside the building rather than charging in and carrying me out over his shoulder, caveman style; rather than complaining, I take the small victory—he's promised not to interfere in my career and to trust me to make my own decisions. I can't say I fault him too much for coming out here knowing with whom I was sitting in a conference room.

I exit the building and he pushes himself off the SUV. "Don't start," I growl severely at him.

He actually takes a step back at my tone, blinking several times. "I wasn't going to—"

The look on my face causes him to stop speaking. "What are you doing here, Christian?" I demand. "I told you I was fine, yet clearly you ignored me."

"Ana, if you think I'm leaving you alone in a room with that woman," he points sharply at the building to emphasize his words, "you're out of your mind."

"Because you don't' think I can take care of myself!" I say loudly, barely registering that my tone is getting a little shrill.

"That's not it!" he argues defensively. "Ana, I know you can take care of yourself! I'm worried that you're too good at taking care of yourself and I'll have to take care of getting you out of jail after you've killed Elena!"

I almost laugh. It wouldn't be the first time I've contemplated the possibility of how easy it would be to get rid of Elena permanently.

 _You know, I'm sure if you were to go to Taylor and ask him to "take care of the problem," he'd do it_ , says my subconscious darkly. _And he would know exactly how to make it look like an accident._

Tempting... And it wouldn't be too difficult to throw Lucy into the plan as well—two birds with one stone and all that.

Not until Christian is looking at me warily do I realize there's a smirk on my face. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies, looking a little disconcerted. I wonder if he's reading my mind again... "Why is Elena here at all?"

"I already told you," I tell him as patiently as I can manage. "She's considering an investment in Canton Publishing. Which is a little odd, considering you told me she's pretty much broke."

He closes his eyes, probably counting to ten to rein in his temper. "The three million," he mutters to himself. "The salon fell through so she's using it for this. What I want to know is whether she knew you worked here or not..."

His voice trails off and his eyes drift from me back to the building. I watch carefully as his expression hardens and his jaw tenses; I think I know what he's looking at before I turn around to confirm my thoughts. Inside the building, exiting the elevator, is Elena and the Cantons, all of whom are smiling. They stand in the middle of the lobby talking, though Elena's gaze finds Christian and me; she's smirking again.

"I'll fucking kill her," Christian growls, starting to head towards the building.

With reflexes I didn't know I had, I reach out to grab his arm to stop him. "Christian, no!" I say urgently. "Leave it. She wants a reaction out of you!"

"Ana, the bitch has crossed way too many lines for me to just let this go," he tells me, his eyes still on Elena. "She's gone through all this trouble to harass you, as if she hasn't done enough already."

"I'm well aware of what she's done," I respond, not lessening the grasp I have on his arm. "And I'm well aware of what we _think_ she's done. But this isn't the way to handle this. You told me you put a temporary restraining order against her—does that mean she's in violation of that?"

Christian sighs, running his hands through his hair. "Unfortunately, no," he says. "It doesn't go into effect until Monday morning."

"Okay," I tell him. "So we let this one go. If she tries contacting us when the order is in effect, then we let the police handle it."

To my surprise, I see Christian deflate in front of me and he finally brings his eyes back to meet mine. I'm silently willing his temper to recede and after a few seconds, I think it's actually working. He nods slowly. "Fine," he says shortly, then eyes me warily again. "I suppose you're going to finish out our work day?"

For the first time since I told Thomas I can't work for him anymore, I second guess myself. I don't want to quit; quitting means admitting defeat and plays directly into the hands of the Bitch Troll. She'll know she's affected me and I don't like that thought. At the same time, though, remaining here would only spark more drama in my life. I'm sick of drama. I glance back into the building to find Elena standing at the door alone, watching Christian and me maliciously. It's taking all my self-restraint not to stalk over and slap her in the face, but I've already told Christian to let it go, so I need to do the same. "No," I tell Christian, turning back to him. "I told Thomas I won't be working here anymore in light of the new management."

Christian's eyebrows shoot up and he's fighting to hide his shock. "Oh," he says. "Okay... Would you like Sawyer to grab your things for you?"

I want to say no, but going back inside means risking either having to deal with Elena myself or leaving her alone with my husband. Not an option for me. "I'd appreciate that," I respond quietly.

Sawyer's in the building before Christian even nods for him to do so, pushing past Elena as though she's not even there. Taylor steps out of the SUV when Elena exits the building and makes her way towards us. Reflexively it seems, Christian grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him protectively. We smell her perfume the moment the door opens and my stomach is already turning.

"Christian," she gushes, a predatory smile on her Botox-injected face. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I'd apologize for not returning the sentiment," Christian begins coldly, "but it would be insincere."

Her smile only widens before she turns to me. "And Anastasia. Thomas said you weren't feeling well. I do hope you're taking care of yourself."

"I'm sure you do," I respond, copying Christian's tone perfectly. "I wasn't aware you had interest in the publishing market."

"Well, interests have a way of evolving," she says airily. "I heard about the trouble with your son. He's doing better, I trust?"

"He's fine," Christian growls. "Though I'm sure you've figured that out by now. You've been talking to Lucy."

Elena tsks at us and adjusts the strap of her purse. "Poor girl," she says sadly. "I suppose no one is above your charms, Christian. I always knew you'd be a heartbreaker, and she clearly was a victim of that."

I'm shaking right now in fury. Only Christian's hand resting on my hip keeps me in place. "I don't know what your role in all this was, Elena," Christian says in a deathly quiet tone, "but I will fucking find out and when I do, you'd better hope we're not in the same country."

"No need for threats, Christian," Elena says, her tone edging on amusement at his words. "I'm only sorry things didn't work out with you and Lucy; she was perfect for you."

At this, I know both Christian and I are about to lose it completely. Only Sawyer's exiting the building again with my bag and coat saves Elena from whatever we might have done. "Stay away from my family," Christian tells Elena, opening the SUV door for me. "I will not say it again. You and I are done. There will never be business between us again, nor will I be coming to you for anything. Get your shit in order, Elena, your personal bank is fucking closed."

Elena's eyes flash in anger. "You just remember who made you, Christian," she says with a sneer. "You owe me more than you'll ever be able to repay."

"I don't owe you shit!" he shouts at her. "I mean it, Elena; if I see you or hear from you again, you will fucking regret it."

Without another word, Christian gets into the SUV, slams the door behind him, and sucks in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. Taylor pulls away from the curb and Christian turns towards me. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I know you said you wanted me to stay out of things, but when I found out she was near you, I had to do something, Ana."

I nod at him. "I understand," I tell him. And I do. For once, I'm glad he went against my word and came after me. I don't know what would have happened if he hadn't—probably something involving me and jail, just as he said.

"What now?" he asks quietly.

Sighing, I rest my head on the window and make my decision. "Let's go pick up our son," I begin quietly, "then I want to go back to my apartment so we can pack. I want to go home."


	17. Chapter 17

I am in an absolute state of shock. I don't think I've ever looked like this for more than about a second in my entire life: slackened jaw, eyes wide. Taylor has pulled away from the curb in front of Canton Publishing and is en route to Teddy's school, leaving behind Elena, who is probably still eyeing the SUV in a myriad of emotions. I don't know that for certain because I can't be bothered to take my eyes of Ana as she stares out the tinted windows. She can't have said what I think she has, not after everything I've put her through with my own bullshit, let alone everything else I drag along wherever I go. I want to ask her about it, confirm her words, but every time I try, the words get lodged somewhere in my throat.

We reach Teddy's school and I open my door to get out. When I look back in, Ana is sliding across the seat to join me, trying to covertly wipe her face. All I want is to take her in my arms, hold her until her tears subsided. But I know her, and with the way she is now, I know she'll only push me away if I try, and that won't do either of us any favors.

It takes us nearly half an hour to check our son out of school. Both Ana and I are grimly satisfied with all the security procedures they have in place and I can tell she wishes she'd chosen this school at the very beginning so we could have avoided what happened with Lucy. I wish she had as well, but I don't blame her for her decisions; she didn't have any idea there was a possible threat of Lucy kidnapping our son, nor should she ever have thought of it.

Teddy is weary when his teacher leads him towards us by the hand, but the moment he sees us, his little face lights up and he starts skipping in our direction. I can't help the elation that builds up in me knowing I'm going home, and my son will be there, hopefully permanently this time. Unless I fuck up everything. Again. Ana puts on a happy face for him when Teddy asks her why she's sad—I might have imagined it, but I'm almost positive I saw him shoot an accusatory glare at me.

 _No,_ my mind tells me. _That's your conscience, Grey._

Neither of us tells Teddy why we're taking him out of school, though I do see Ana thinking of a way to explain it to him. Personally, I see no problem with merely telling him we're going home to Seattle—I know he'll be happy about it. She doesn't tell him, though, and I'm suddenly feeling uncertain and uneasy again. Has she already changed her mind about coming back to Seattle? Had it simply been a heat of the moment thing for her to say? Panic grips me as this thought settles in my mind, but I manage to rein in the physical effects enough not to draw the attention of my wife and son.

When we arrive at Ana's apartment, she takes a minute to steady herself before kneeling down onto the floor in front of Teddy. I feel the urge to step back several paces in order to give them privacy, though I have no idea why; I think I know exactly what's coming.

"Teddy," Ana says quietly. "How would you feel about going home to Seattle?"

We both watch as his mother's words sink in fully. His little face lights up, looking as though it's his birthday, Christmas, and any other number of days when he tends to get spoiled all rolled up into one. "Really?" he asks, practically bouncing in place. "Forever?"

My eyes snap to Ana as she takes a deep breath before speaking. "Yes," she says, her voice choked. "Forever, baby boy."

I think I might start bouncing around the room, shouting in joy the way my son is at any moment. I refrain, instead watching the small smile on my wife's face as she watches Teddy. Ana tells Teddy to go start packing his things—he doesn't need to be told twice; before the words are even fully out of her mouth, he's down the hallway at his bedroom door. I watch closely as Ana's face changes from indulgent mother, pleased to see her son's happiness, to something I can't help but identify as defeat and misery. She wraps her arms around herself, making no other move as she continues to watch Teddy's bedroom.

I step forward with the intention of... I'm not sure what. Comfort? Reassurance? "Ana," I say softly, reaching out to touch her arm with the tips of my fingers.

That seemed to snap her out of whatever daze she was under. "I have to pack," she says abruptly, turning towards me, but looking everywhere except at me directly. I start to protest, but she cuts me off. "Can you arrange a flight for us?"

My arm drops lamely to my side, feeling my own defeat. "Of course," I reply quietly. She shoots a tight smile in my direction before turning away and disappearing down the hallway.

* * *

I cannot believe this is happening. Despite having made a decision already about moving towards going home to Seattle, I had been determined to make it be under my terms. Not Christian's. Not any other member of my family. And certainly not Elena Lincoln's. It was a decision I wanted based on the well-being of my son and peripherally me. But here I am, packing all my belongings with the intention of running back to Seattle almost exactly as I'd run _away_ from Seattle seven months ago.

Much as I want to remain where I am, I know it's not an option anymore. If Elena is becoming a partner with Canton Publishing, there would be no question that I would have quit my job, leaving me searching for another. Just knowing that woman is in the same country as my husband, son, and me makes me sick to my stomach, and there is no way I would consider working somewhere I could chance upon her at any time.

The feelings of defeat and failure are overwhelming. I wanted more than anything to prove I could live my own life, make my own way, and ensure my son's happiness, not only to Christian but to myself as well. I've spent so long in his shadow that I've lost myself along the way and have forgotten what it's like to be truly independent. More than anything, I can't stand the thought of facing Christian right now, knowing I'd proved myself wrong—once things got tough, I decided to run rather than stick to my guns. Inwardly, I know I'm being hard on myself. Most people would understand about not wanting to work for a woman who had the history Elena does, especially when that history involves molesting trouble fifteen-year-old boys. She wanted this. She wanted me to react to her presence and actions, and I've just played into her hands perfectly.

By no means does this move imply Christian and I are getting back together. I haven't thought any further than actually getting back to Seattle, but I do know he and I will not be jumping back into each other's arms any time soon. As awkward as it would be, the arrangement we had while I was in Seattle for the Greys' end of summer party might be ideal—the one where he and I sleep in separate bedrooms. The upsides about my decision are that I'll have my family and friends around to support me and Christian and I can work on whatever might be left of our relationship in a familiar environment for both of us. It can't have been easy for him to uproot his business to another country, and I certainly appreciate the effort he's put into spending time with Teddy, but the hurt he's caused me is still raw and far too close to the surface to just let it go.

Scrubbing my face with my hands, I stand from where I've been sitting on my bed for the last however long it's been and head towards the closet for my suitcases so I can begin packing, but I'm interrupted by a soft knock on the door. My eyes close of their own accord, knowing who my visitor is and knowing I really can't deal with him right now. My mouth betrays me, though, as it opens up to admit entrance to my room. I look up after a moment, intending to ask Christian to leave me alone for the moment until I realize it's Taylor standing in my doorframe.

"Mrs. Grey," he says quietly. "You have a visitor."

My eyes widen in surprise, having no idea who might have come here. I know there's no way Elena could have gotten into the building, and even if she had, Taylor and the rest of his team would have kept her from getting to my door. And they certainly wouldn't have come to inform me about it. "Who?" I ask.

"Thomas Canton, ma'am."

I blink several times as my mind processes the words. "Oh," I say dumbly. "Where is he?"

"In the hallway. Would you like me to ask him to leave?"

Would I? It would probably be better all around if I did, but I find myself still wanting some semblance of control in my life. Not to mention I am beyond curious as to why Thomas would have come here after what happened this morning. "No," I reply, standing and straightening my shirt. "I'll speak to him. Where's Christian?" The last thing I want right now is for Christian to start getting territorial—I've learned that certain things trigger his over-protectiveness and jealousy, and one of those things happens to be encounters with the Bitch Troll. He knows I'm upset right now and he'll want to do everything possible to avoid making it any worse than it's already gotten, which will include keeping me away from someone he only just a short time ago considered a rival for my affection.

"Outside," Taylor tells me. "He's currently making flight arrangements."

I nod, gesturing for Taylor to lead me down the hall.

"Let me know if you need me," Taylor says quietly and sternly.

I summon up a genuine smile of appreciation. "I will, Jason. Thank you."

Taylor nods once, then retreats towards the patio where I can see Christian leaning over the banister, phone glued to his ear. He'd be occupied at least long enough for my conversation with Thomas. I open the apartment door to find Thomas leaning against the wall opposite, hands in his pockets as he stares down the hallway. As I enter, his gaze meets mine and he pushes himself off the wall. "Hi, Thomas," I say quietly, closing the door behind me and leaning against it.

"Ana," he says, closing some of the distance between us. "What the hell was that?"

I sigh. "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm sorry for leaving the way I did and causing a scene, but I couldn't stay."

He nods slowly. "What is it about that Lincoln woman that you despise so much?" he asks thoughtfully.

I inwardly snort a laugh. "Thomas, that would take days to explain," I say wryly, rolling my eyes. "It's complicated and it's personal."

"And you were serious about not coming back to work?"

"Yes," I say regretfully. "I know it's completely unprofessional to not give some sort of notice, but—"

"What can I do to change your mind?" he asks, interrupting me. He's staring at me intently and I squirm a little. "Do we need to rethink our agreement with Lincoln? I'm prepared to do that; I'm not sure I trust her anyway."

"I can't ask you to give up a business opportunity that could help your company," I reply. _Especially over someone with such a low job position in the company like me._ "I appreciate everything you've done for me—giving me the job in the first place, being a friend when I needed one, and I'm sorry things didn't work out for us romantically—but I've made the decision to take Teddy back to Seattle. I should have done it months ago; I never should have let things get this far." And I hate the fact that my eyes are prickling right now.

"Ah," Thomas says, seemingly in realization. "You're going back to your husband."

"Not officially," I say, feeling a little defensive. "It's where I need to be right now, especially after what happened with Teddy."

He nods. "I understand," he says, his tone unusually stiff. "Well, I hope things work out for you. You deserve only the best of everything, Anastasia, and I hope you know what you're doing and that you don't end up hurting again."

I smile at him. "Thank you," I tell him quietly. "For everything, Thomas." I hesitate a moment before stepping forward, stretching up and placing my lips briefly against his. I'm a little disconcerted to realize the spark that was there the first time we kissed is still present and pull away right before Thomas starts to put his arms around me. He swallows hard and I try to even out my breathing when the door opens behind me. I know who it is without turning to look—my body always seems to react to Christian's presence by sending a charge of static electricity from my brain to my toes.

"Ana," Christian says stiffly. "Is everything all right?"

I know his eyes are locked on Thomas and I wonder if he knows what just happened. "Fine, Christian," I tell him. "Thomas was just coming to say goodbye."

Thomas nods. "And I've done that," he says crisply, "so I'll be leaving." His eyes meet mine and they soften. "Good luck, Ana."

"Thank you." I wrap my arms around myself and watch as he turns away towards the elevators, leaving Christian and me alone. I turn to look up at him, finding his gaze inscrutable. I wait for him to freak out, but it never comes. Instead he only reaches out to pull my lip from between my teeth, rubbing it softly as though he's trying to wipe away the touch of another man from my lips. He then turns away from him to open the door and lets me pass him to enter.

* * *

After dinner, Christian takes our son to his bedroom to help finish packing, while I resume my own. There has been tension in this apartment all day and it's showing no signs of lessening. Is this what I have to look for when we get back to Seattle—Christian and me being overly polite to one another in front of our son while our respective minds are a million miles off?

Zipping the last of my suitcases shut, I collapse on my bed as the events of the last several days and months come crashing into me. I want to cry, to get it all out of my system, but no tears come to me. I don't even hear my bedroom door open and I don't realize I'm not alone until my mattress dips behind me. I feel Christian scooting closer to me, spooning me as he rests his arm over my belly. I want to tell him to stop, to not touch me, but I just don't have the strength.

"Ana?" he whispers, his mouth almost pressed against my ear. "If this isn't what you want, we can make other arrangements. I certainly won't force you into anything, especially after everything that's happened. That's not to say I don't want you home with me—I do, more than you know—but I want you to be happy and comfortable."

"I'm not doing this for me, Christian," I reply shakily. "I'm doing it for Teddy. He needs to be with his family. Besides, do you really think I want to be in the same country with not one but two of your exes?"

I feel a soft breath of laughter against my ear. "Fair point, well made, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs. We lay together for several long minutes, and while I know it's not a good idea to let this go on, to give him hope of anything changing between us, I ignore it, giving into the comfort he's trying to give me. Christian is the first to break the silence. "I've got us a flight scheduled for tomorrow night at ten."

I stiffen. "Why tomorrow night?" I ask suspiciously, having believed he would have gotten us out of here at the earliest time possible.

"There were earlier flights," he answers, "but I think we still have a bit of unfinished business here."

"And what might that be?" I turn onto my back, waiting for him to adjust his own position, placing his elbow beside my head while his other arm remains draped across my hip.

He hesitates, giving me an apologetic expression. "Lucy," he says reluctantly. "It's completely up to you, but I was able to make arrangements to meet with her tomorrow morning to find out what it is she has to say. If I go, I want you with me. You deserve to hear everything. If you don't want to go, I won't either. We can spend tomorrow however you want and leave tomorrow night without even dealing with her. Whatever you want, Ana."

I hold his gaze for what feels like hours, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. The thought of facing Lucy is putting a heavy feeling in my stomach. A couple days ago, there was nothing I would have wanted more than to see her and give her a piece of my mind, but after the altercation with Elena, I feel all the fight leaving my body. "Why do you want me with you?" I ask quietly, needing a few more minutes to decide what I want to do.

He swallows hard. "I don't want any more secrets between us, Ana," he informs me in a low tone. "I know I'm asking a lot of you for this and I can only imagine how painful it is to even consider being in the same room with her, but I need you. It's probably incredibly selfish of me, all things considered, but I can't face this alone. I don't want to. Not anymore."

I have no idea how to respond to this. The mixture of emotions ranging from incredulity to anger to sadness is fogging my brain, and I realize suddenly how exhausted I am. If I say no to this, he'll leave London without seeing her again, which on some level makes me feel victorious. We'll go back to Seattle without giving her the attention she apparently desperately wants from Christian. On the other hand, my curiosity always has a tendency to get me into trouble and I am curious to what it is she has to say to my husband about kidnapping our son. The likelihood of her actually giving him answers when I'm in the same room, however, seems slim. I'm certain, though, if anyone could arrange for me to watch and listen in without actually being in the room, it's the man beside me right now.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I meet Christian's wary gaze. "We'll go to the police station," I say quietly, noting the surprise on his face, but ignoring it for the moment. "I want to hear every word that woman says."

"Okay," Christian whispers. "I'll have Taylor make the arrangements."

I nod, shifting a little into a more comfortable position. Christian curls up behind me again and while I'm once again tempted to ask him to leave me be, my eyes fall shut before I can work up the words. As I drift off, I hear him whisper _I love you_ against my ear.

* * *

The next morning, there isn't much discussion about our plans for the day. I was awake long before Ana, having barely dozed off the entire night, and made sure everything was done and ready to go for our flight. It's occurred to me several times that Ana might change her mind about returning to Seattle after our meeting with Lucy at the police station, but I'm trying not to focus on that. While we're dealing with that, Sawyer has been charged with keeping Teddy occupied. I've warned him not only with loss of his job but immediate death if anything happens to my son during the couple hours Ana and I will be away from them.

Just as I'm finishing breakfast preparation, I hear Ana's bedroom door open and I think she's heading for a shower. I serve Teddy his meal and glance up at the apartment door to find Taylor there, slipping in before closing the door again. My jaw tightens at the sight of him—the ass kicking I gave him last night over letting Canton up here rivaled some of the worst ones he's ever gotten, though to his credit, he's still here doing his job.

"A word, sir?" he says stiffly as I return to the kitchen.

"What?" I snap.

Taylor sighs and I turn to find him looking at me resignedly, as though whatever he's about to say, he's lost some bet with the other security guards about bringing this to my attention. I'm immediately on edge. "I realize you're still upset about last night, and I again apologize for not adhering to the proscribed guest list, but I think you're making a mistake."

I freeze. "Excuse me?" I ask in a deathly quiet voice, careful to set down the plates in my hand before I end up throwing them across the room.

Taylor reluctantly stepped a little closer to me. "Sir, are you certain this is the best course of action, seeing Miss Hastings today?"

I deflate almost immediately. I've been questioning this decision since it popped into my mind. More than anything, I want to distance both myself and Ana from this entire situation; instead, I'm shoving us right back into the fire. We need some sort of closure, though, not only from Teddy's kidnapping, but from the affair. Ana needs to hear everything Lucy has to say. She needs to see the two of us interact, needs to see my feelings for Lucy are no more. I've dug deep, trying to figure out if there is any residual positive emotion for Lucy anywhere in me. Every time I think I might have found something, I'm filled with nausea at the memory of what I did to Ana and to Teddy. It was the height of stupidity and egotism to believe I could find happiness somewhere other than with my family. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the mistakes I've made this past year and as much as I hope otherwise, I have no delusions that I will have my wife at my side once all this is over. I certainly haven't done anything to deserve her or her love.

"No," I finally respond to Taylor. "But it needs to be done. This was Ana's decision."

"If I may speak freely, sir?" Taylor asks cautiously. I give him a terse nod. "Is it truly her decision or is she going along because she thinks it's what you want? You talk about closure and moving on. It would be easier for everyone involved to just leave England without a look back. You've achieved what you came to achieve—your wife has agreed to return to Seattle—why risk all of that just for one last glimpse at your former mistress."

The desire to punch my head of security has never been stronger than it is now, but I can't find any real fault in his logic... Not that I'll admit that out loud, of course. "Have you finished?" I ask flatly, clenching and unclenching my fists at my side. "Ana makes her own decisions. She proved that the moment she left me. Whatever reasons she has for agreeing to see Lucy today are her own and if she wished otherwise, I would not hesitate in getting on that fucking plane tonight with my wife and son without going to the police station. I appreciate your concern and I know you've put up with a lot of my shit over the last several months, but stay out of this, Taylor. This is nothing to do with you. Is that understood?"

Taylor nods once, his expression and posture reverting to normal. "Of course, Mr. Grey," he replies stiffly. "When you and Mrs. Grey are prepared, I will have the car pulled around for you."

Without another word, Taylor turns on his heel and leaves the apartment, the door closing behind him just as Ana makes her entrance. She takes in my expression and her eyes widen uncertainly. "Everything all right?" she asks.

I suck in a deep breath then release it slowly. "Everything's fine," I tell her hoarsely. "Jason and I were just disagreeing about something."

She's suspicious as I hand her a plate and gesture for her to join Teddy at the table.

"We'll need to be going in an hour or so," I tell her. "When we finish, we'll head straight for the airport. All of your belongings and mine will be sent ahead."

She tenses and she swallows hard before nodding. I wait until Teddy has cleared his plate before moving around in front of her, dropping to my knees at her feet, grasping her shaky hands in my own. "Ana," I breathe, Taylor's words suddenly flying back to me. "You can change your mind. I don't need this."

"Are you sure?" she asks. Her hardened gaze makes me flinch. "After everything that's happened, you can honestly tell me that you don't need this one last chance to face her, find out the truth... find out if you still love her...?"

Her words knock me backwards. I find myself shaking my head, my mouth hanging open. "Ana, I don't..."

"Stop, Christian," she says exhaustedly. "Just stop. You can tell me it was an illusion or lust or whatever, but I know you; for all your belief that you're incapable of loving anyone fully, your capacity for love is overwhelming at times. Even when the people you love hurt you, you don't stop loving them. I know that, because I'm the same."

"Maybe," I respond thickly, not missing the not-so hidden meaning of her words: I've hurt her more than anyone ever has, but she still hasn't stopped loving me. "It's taken all this for me to realize the most important people in my life are my son and my wife. I've taken you both for granted, I've hurt you in ways that should have made you hate me, but for some reason that escapes me, you don't. I'm going to regain your trust and your love. I'm going to somehow prove to you that you are the only woman I need from here on out."

Something sparks behind her eyes, but she blinks before I have time to identify it. Instead she nods. "We should go," she says quietly, standing up and moving past me.

After a few moments, I push myself off the floor, wondering how either of us will recover if this meeting with Lucy goes any farther south than it's bound to go.

* * *

I feel sick to my stomach as I walk into the police station at Christian's side. What the fuck was I thinking, agreeing to this meeting? Why am I putting myself through this?

 _Because you want to see the bitch who destroyed your marriage for yourself_ , hisses my subconscious.

I'd agree with her if I hadn't come to the conclusion that Christian and I had a pretty big part in destroying things for ourselves before he started the affair. Still, I have no idea what to expect. Taylor has arranged it so that I won't be in the room with Christian and Lucy to begin with; he'll be in an adjoining interrogation room with me as we watch through two-way glass and listening through a speaker. If I decide I need to intervene for whatever reason, Taylor will accompany me. It seems he's taken the initiative to be my own personal security today rather than Christian's. Then again, this might be to ensure my fantasies about beating her to a bloody pulp don't come true, landing me in my very own jail cell.

Lucy's attorney is present when we arrive and there's a brief discussion between him and Christian about what's going to happen in just a short time. I'm not entirely sure what their conversation is about, but I have the suspicion the attorney might have been given a bit of a _bonus_ for agreeing to this—surely this isn't common practice... The attorney shakes hands with Christian and takes off down a corridor without a glance over his shoulder. Christian is watching me closely.

"Last chance to back out," he tells me quietly.

Steeling my nerves, I shake my head. I can't explain why I'm so determined to see this through, but there is no way I'm letting it go this easily. I need answers from another point of view; I've been listening to Christian's for weeks and his words are becoming little more than a buzzing in my ears with no real meaning behind them anymore.

"No," I tell him, standing up straight. "We're here. Might as well see what she wants."

His eyes narrow at me and I see anxiety flash through his eyes briefly before he pushes it back again. "Okay," he sighs. "Just know that whatever happens, I love you, Anastasia. You are the woman I want. No one else."

 _Heard that one before..._ I say inwardly, biting back the urge to say it aloud. "Let's get this over with."

Sighing again, he nods, glancing briefly at Taylor, then heads into the interrogation room with his former mistress. On suddenly shaky legs, I cross to the door just beside the one where Christian has just disappeared, open it, and enter.


	18. Chapter 18

The moment I enter the room, my eyes find Lucy. She's sitting behind a long metal table wearing a blue jumpsuit and looks absolutely miserable. Her brown hair, normally long, shiny, and styled is mousy and dull. This is the first time I'm seeing her without makeup and it occurs to me suddenly that while my wife is a natural beauty who doesn't need to paint her face to look breathtaking, Lucy is of a different type. She's not ugly by any means—any man would agree with me—but it's obvious just how much effort she's put into her looks. I know later on I'm going to have to face the alarm bells that are ringing in my head over this realization, but now is not the time.

"Christian!" Lucy exclaims in relief, water filling her big blue eyes. She tries to stand, but the clanging of chains reminds both of us where we are and that she's apparently tethered to the table. Her lower lip quivers as she watches me. I do everything possible to keep my expression neutral, knowing without a doubt Ana is in the next room watching my every move with her critical eye. Not only that, but I don't want to start out this conversation with hostility. I'll build up to the hostility. "Christian, this is all a misunderstanding! You have to get me out of here."

So much for building up... "Get you out of here?" I growl, remaining rooted beside the door. "Lucy, you fucking kidnapped my son with the intention of leaving the country with him! Why the fuck would I do anything to help you?"

Her eyes widen. I've never taken this tone with her, never gotten angry with her. "I did it for us," she whispers. "I thought..."

I can't help but wonder when she turned psychotic. Was it when I ended things between us initially? Was it when I forced her to leave my room in Germany? "For us..." I repeat dumbly. "Lucy, there is no us. Not now. Not ever again. It's over. If you would have listened to me the last two times I tried to tell you that, we wouldn't be in this mess right now. What do I have to do?"

She looks as though I've crushed her. Which, granted, I may have done. Nevertheless, I need this to end right here, right now. "Christian, you can deny all you want," she tells me. She's managed to rein in her emotions enough to at least sound like the Lucy I thought I knew. "But what we had was real. You were miserable. I made you happy. All those nights you came to me because you were fighting with your wife," my eyes reflexively dart towards the two-way mirror behind which Ana is standing, "you wanted me to make you forget and I did."

My eyes close against her words, however true they might be. "I was wrong," I tell Lucy hoarsely, hoping to god Ana is still watching and listening. "What you and I did... It never should have happened. I can blame any number of things, but when it comes down to it, Lucy, I was weak and I thought I needed something outside my marriage. I thought my wife was getting ready to leave me before I even met you. I went on the defensive with the reasoning that if things were going to end, they would end on my terms." I'm barely hearing the words as they leave my mouth, but the moment they're out there, I realize this is the most honest I've been about my marriage in years. And I hate that I'm doing this because I'm standing in front of Lucy. Maybe this is best, though; I couldn't ever say these things to Ana directly, and I know she doesn't want to hear them in this way, but it all needs to be said. "It's no excuse and all I did was hurt the person who means the most to me in the world."

Lucy's eyes widen and I swear she's about to start laughing. "The person who means the most to you?" she asks in a mocking tone I've heard before. Not until now did he find the tone to be harsh and cold. "If she meant the most to you, then why the hell were you running to me all those nights when you fought with her? Tell me that."

"I don't have to tell you anything," I respond coldly. "I don't even fucking know why I'm here."

"Because you can't stay away," Lucy says, a little smile appearing on her face. "Because after all those nights you ran to me and we stayed up talking about your marriage and our future together, you realize I'm what you want and what you need. That you love me."

I'm pretty sure my heart has never beat this hard or fast in my life. "I don't love you," I spit out. "Maybe I thought I did at one point, but that time has passed, Lucy. I told you dozens of times that my son was off limits to you. You didn't listen. Instead you twist everything around and make it seem as though this was the plan all along. Let me make something very plain to you," I take a few minute steps forward, "you are nothing to me. At most, I pity you. I'm sorry if I played a part in this mental breakdown you seem to have had, but there is no way I'm ever going to forgive this. Yes, there were discussions about what might happen should my marriage end. I was grieving what I thought I'd lost and trying to find a way to save myself. I've done some pretty selfish things in my life, but none of them compare to the things you and I have done."

The shocked, hurt look on her face fades into the much more familiar seduction smile. "I wouldn't say it was all selfish, Christian," she practically purrs. That tone used to make me hard in an instant; now it's like nails on chalkboard. "All those times you made me scream and beg you for more... You never left me unsatisfied. And I know goddamn well you always left very well satisfied yourself. We could have that again..."

A noise from the next room startles both me and Lucy, and I look at the two-way glass, wondering what is going on behind it. Taylor's probably got his work cut out for him right now. Actually, I'm a little surprised Ana hasn't gotten away from him yet... "No, Lucy, we can't," I answer severely. "You were a good fuck. I thought you could be more. But however much you might look or act like my wife, you could never be her."

Another niggling thought from the back of my mind makes its way through and I feel sick to my stomach suddenly. "How do you know Elena Lincoln?" I ask quietly, my eyes narrowing as I watch Lucy's expression closely.

And there it is: Panic. Nerves. It's the expression of somebody whose plan has just been figured out and is trying to find their way back to salvation. It all hits me like a tidal wave. Elena's involvement. Lucy's. I should have fucking seen it all from the beginning, but I've been blinded by my stupidity and my desperation to win back my wife. I stumble backwards until I hit the wall. "Well?" I demand.

She looks away from me, blinking rapidly for several moments until finally looking back at me. Gone is the confident woman I had known over the last year or so. All that remains is a broken, scared girl who so reminds me of Leila. The only thought in my mind is that I've destroyed yet another woman.

"I've known Elena for years," she whispers eventually. "She's an old family friend, much the same as you, I hear."

I ignore the bitterness in her voice. "So all this time you've been... what, plotting to break up my marriage?"

Lucy shakes her head despondently. "No. Or at least that's not how it started." She sighs heavily. "Christian, everything I feel for you is real. I am in love with you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I thought we were headed towards that at one point, but I started getting scared that you would end our relationship. Elena came around work one day when I was feeling particularly distracted and I'm sure you know she has a way of getting information out of people. Didn't take her long to find out what was on my mind. She told me she's known for years that your marriage wouldn't last, that your wife was only after your money, and that she's been trying to find a way to get you to see reason all along. She said she could help me and I was only too willing to accept that help."

If ever there was a moment that I would become physically ill in front of another person, this would be it. I subdue the urge, though. "You say you've known Elena for years," I say hoarsely, "but you don't know what a manipulator she is?"

"It didn't matter, Christian!" Lucy shouts. "She said she knew how to make you mine for good! I would have done anything, including selling my soul to the fucking devil." She gives a self-deprecating laugh. "Which, apparently, I did."

"What was her plan?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

Sniffing, Lucy blinks a few times. "She sent your wife a video of you and me together."

 _FUCK!_

"After your wife left you, I thought I'd won. I waited for you to show up outside my apartment again. I waited to help you through whatever you needed. My desperation made me say some pretty horrible things to you—like going to the press with our affair. I never would have hurt you like that, though. The day you came to tell me it was over was the worst day of my life. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to change your mind, but you were so set on trying to get back the wife who had no trouble throwing you aside and moving practically across the planet, taking your son with her. And I knew she couldn't have loved you the way I did: I never would have given you up, not for anything. What kind of stupidity does she possess to even consider leaving you?"

That's it... Before I can stop myself, I feel my fist connecting with the wall and I know I will need some sort of medical treatment once this is over. But it can wait. "If you ever call my wife stupid again, you will regret it," I threaten in a growl. "At least she has enough pride in herself that when someone she loves treats her like shit, she leaves. I've put her through so much shit since we've been together and even when I've broken her heart, she's still willing to give me a chance. She's a better person than either of us will ever be and she might not need me like I need her, but she is the only person I want for the rest of my life."

Lucy laughs harshly, but I see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Until the next time she doesn't measure up to your expectations," she replies. "She'll leave you again and you'll just chase after her like a fucking puppy. She must be a really good fuck if she's got you this well-trained. Here I thought you were some big, bad Dominant..."

"I've heard enough."

I didn't even hear the door open. When I look to my right, I find my wife standing beside me looking angrier than I've ever seen her—which, considering everything, is saying something. I almost want to step between her and Lucy to prevent whatever might happen next, but I don't think I want to be within striking range of Ana right now.

Ana sucks in a deep breath as she stares in disdain at my former mistress. "You know," she says calmly, "I've spent the last seven months imagining what you were like. Imagining what you and Christian were like together. Just the thought of you was enough to give me nightmares. But looking at you right now..." She shakes her head, a small smile on her face. It's a smile of triumph that I've never seen on her before. "You're pathetic. You can't go out and find a man of your own; you have to try and steal mine. Admittedly, it worked for a while. I thought you were going to win. For a while, I was more than prepared to let you, because I couldn't face being hurt anymore than I had been." She steps forward almost until she reaches the table. "I was prepared to let you win right up until the point that you touched my son." Lucy's eyes are locked on Ana, wide and fearful, as they should be. I can't see Ana from this angle, but the old adage about not getting between a mama bear and her cub comes to mind. "The only reason I'm not tearing you apart with my bare hands is because I have every intention of leaving here— _with my husband_ —getting my son, and going home to Seattle. And I swear to god, if you ever get out of here and you come near any of us ever again, I will not have the same restraint."

The room is dead silent for several minutes. Ana and Lucy are staring at each other, clearly waiting for the other's next move. Ana makes a sound of disgust then turns to me. "Let's go," she tells me quietly. "She's not worth our time or attention."

Grasping my hand with the strength of a vise, she leads me out of the room where Taylor is leaning against a wall with a pained expression on his face. I don't have much time to take this in as my brain is still processing what just happened in the interrogation room. It's not until we're outside the police station and reaching the SUV that my brain finally starts functioning again.

"Ana, wait!" I say urgently, pulling on her hand until she stops. She turns on her heel to face me and the anger she had when confronting Lucy softens only marginally. I sigh, reaching out my free hand to touch her cheek. "Are you okay?"

She deflates, all her anger turning into exhaustion and hurt. "I'm fine," she lies. "I just want to get the fuck out of here."

I nod, tempting fate by resting my lips against her forehead briefly. "I think I can handle that..."

* * *

Our entire drive is a blur. I'm shaking uncontrollably, though whether it's from anger or hurt or something else, I'm not entirely sure. Hell, I don't even remember leaving Taylor in the little room where we'd been watching and listening to every word Christian and Lucy shared. The last thing I do remember is staring at my husband's face, watching all the different emotions play across his face and searching for anything that might betray his true feelings for the woman sitting across from him. At one point I thought I saw something in his eyes that I believed was only ever directed at me. It took a change of angle from where I was standing and actually listening to his words to realize it wasn't undying, unconditional love he was conveying to Lucy, but pity. There was absolutely nothing on his face to tell me he might still be in love with her—and there is no doubt in my mind that he was at one point in love with her. If I had seen something there, I would have left him in that police station with his whore. Taylor had already, reluctantly, agreed to at least getting me back to Teddy without Christian's knowledge. He couldn't guarantee anymore, so he said; I have the feeling if I'd really been determined to leave, he'd have seen me through to wherever I needed to go, regardless of his dedication to his boss.

Not that it matters anymore. We're currently speeding back to my apartment, having somehow survived the nightmare of a meeting with Lucy. Every time I glance at Christian out of the corner of my eye—I can't seem to look at him fully right now—he's looking back at me with a mixture of awe, sadness, and slight fear. I don't know what to say to him, especially after hearing some of the things I heard. Right now, I'm trying to focus on some of the things we both learned today: like how Elena was behind this entire thing. Elena sent me that fucking video, knowing exactly how I'd react. She wanted nothing more than to tear apart my marriage and she achieved exactly that. For a very brief moment, I actually felt sorry for Lucy, having learned she was nothing more than a pawn in Elena's game. We all were. That very brief moment was gone just as quickly when I reminded myself that Lucy and Christian were the reason Elena's plan was able to go on as long as it had. When it comes down to it, Elena's involvement, while integral to how the last several months has played out, doesn't change the fact that my husband betrayed me in a way only he could.

Then I'm reminded of his words. _"I thought my wife was getting ready to leave me before I even met you. I went on the defensive with the reasoning that if things were going to end, they would on my terms."_ Typical Christian Grey and his desperate need to hold onto his precious control... I was right all along in thinking that he was preparing to end our marriage before I even saw that fucking video.

So what changed? The simple fact that I left first? I shook up his world when he thought he was in control and that suddenly changed every vantage point of his life. I have no idea where this leaves us. On the one hand, I want to crawl over, straddle his lap, and do any number of unmentionable things to him, despite being in full view of Taylor. On the other... Well, my reasons haven't changed all that much. I realize we're always going to come right back to my feelings of hurt and betrayal.

My stomach churns as I recall the little smile on Lucy's face when she talked about her and Christian being together. The images some of her statements brought to mind are ones I don't want in my head. I want to know what she and Christian talked about during "all those nights" they were together. How much did she know about me?

 _Even if Christian hadn't told her a thing, Elena was right there behind the scenes to coach her,_ my subconscious tells me. _She knew Christian well enough to know exactly how to mold Lucy into the perfect seductress for him._

Shaking my head at myself, I glance over at Christian again, who is watching me. Still. I suddenly want clarification on a few things. "You thought I was going to leave you." It's more of a statement than a question, but I turn fully in my seat to watch his expression.

He's surprised at first that this is what I want to know, but that turns to reluctance. Finally he nods slightly. "Yes," he whispers.

"When did I ever give you that idea?" My voice is on the border of incredulity.

He raises an eyebrow at me as though it should be obvious. "I saw the surveillance footage of the day you packed bags for both yourself and Teddy," he explains quietly. "I watched you standing at the top of the stairs for nearly half an hour before you went back to the bedroom to put away your things."

I feel the blood draining from my face. I always thought he hadn't seen that—or maybe I was hoping. "You never said anything about it," I respond faintly. "At all."

With a shrug, Christian looks out the window. "Believe me, I wanted to. But at the same time, I was afraid I'd only push you away even farther than I already had. Things between us had gotten so strained that I wondered if it might have been best for you to have left. It would have given both of us some space to decide what we wanted. Back then, I knew exactly what would have happened if you'd left: I'd give you a day or so to yourself, then I'd come after you, begging you for forgiveness and telling you how much I needed you and wanted you and loved you. Instead of confronting you, I kept silent. I waited to see if you brought it up, but of course, you never did."

"I thought you didn't care," I hear myself admitting out loud. "Either you hadn't seen the security footage and were blissfully oblivious, or you had seen it and it didn't matter to you that I was preparing to leave."

"Didn't care?" he asks, looking almost genuinely offended. "Are you fucking kidding me? Ana, I cared! I spent the days, weeks, and months after that day terrified that I'd come home from work to find you gone! The problem wasn't some lack of caring or love; it was the fact that we both seemed to have given up on our marriage. And the day you _actually_ left..." He blinks rapidly, looking away from me for several moments. "The only other time I ever felt like that was the last time you left. But this time it was so much worse, because I knew exactly what I'd lost this time and it was by my own doing that I felt that way."

"Fucking right it was," I mutter under my breath. Judging by the brief upturn of his lips, he heard. "You say you cared, but that happened months before you started with Lucy. You couldn't have cared too much, Christian, or we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

He looks as though I've slapped him across the face, which, admittedly, doesn't seem like a bad idea at the moment... "I know," he says simply. "Can I ask you something?"

It sounds like he believes he's pushing his luck, and he is, but now that we've got an open dialogue, I have every intention of taking advantage of it. "Yes."

Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he asks, "Why did you change your mind about leaving that day? You could have grabbed Teddy and taken off, and I wouldn't have known about it for hours."

I sigh. "I changed my mind," I begin cautiously, trying to work through my thoughts, "because at the time I didn't think I could live without you, no matter how far apart we'd drifted from one another. I thought we might be able to salvage our marriage and work through our problems. Only problem being I had no idea where to start and every time I wanted to talk to you about it, you brushed me off."

He nods. I wonder if he already knew the answer to his question. "And now? You've shown you can live without me, but are we salvageable?"

"I don't know," I reply sadly. "We still have a lot of things to work through and I'm still not fully convinced you want our marriage for any other reason than you simply don't want to give it up. Honestly, Christian, the thing that hurts most isn't the affair as much as it's the fact that you went to other women to discuss our future together. I heard what you said to Lucy about the two of you fantasizing about what might happen if you and I divorced. How do you think that makes me feel? Especially considering I was fucking clueless until I got that video emailed to me."

"I don't know what to say that won't sound empty and meaningless to you," he tells me. "I've hurt you in ways that would absolutely destroy me if the roles were reversed, and yet they seem to have made you stronger. And this is probably the wrong thing to say right now, but I have never been more proud of you than I am right now for dealing with Lucy how you did. You were calm and just overall amazing."

I smile very slightly at this, having been rather proud of myself as well. Especially for my self-restraint. When I ditched Taylor, I had every intention to bursting into that room to beat the shit out of that woman. My breaking point had been her insulting Christian. The things she said that were aimed at me rankled a bit, but I could handle it, knowing she was trying to get a rise out of Christian and convince him of my continued flaws. As much as he's hurt me, apparently I still can't stand the thought of somebody else hurting him.

I'm completely drained right now. All I want is to curl up and sleep for the next twelve hours in an attempt to recover from everything that's happened. There's still one thing I need Christian to know, though, before I can shut down my brain. "You want to know my biggest fear?" I whisper, meeting his gaze. He nods warily. "It's that I'll end up like them—Leila and Elena and Lucy—so desperate for your love and affection that my entire sense of self is shattered. That one day you'll end our marriage for good and I'll have to watch you being happy with somebody else from afar. Because that is what the four of us all have or had in common; loving you is like a black hole. We throw ourselves into it without any hesitation and then one day we find ourselves lost and desperate to find stable ground again. I can't end up that way, Christian. It'll kill me."

The look on his face can only be described as tortured as he struggles to find some way to respond to that. "You won't end up that way," he tells me hoarsely. "You know why? It's because you are so much stronger than they are. Fuck, you're stronger than I am. You don't need me to get by, but I need you. Just like when you left me that first time, it's taken losing you to realize I can't be without you. It's more than not wanting to lose my marriage. I want _you_ , Anastasia. I want to see you smile at me again and laugh with me or at me, whichever you prefer. I want to see you happy again and I want you to look at me like you once did—like there was nobody else in your world but me."

"In order to do any of that, I need to be able to trust you again, Christian," I respond, trying not to let him see how much his words are affecting me. "And right now, I don't trust you. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust you again. I let you into my life, gave you everything I had and more, and you just threw it away like it never meant a goddamn thing to you."

"I'll regain your trust," he assures me with the confidence he's mastered over the years.

I don't respond to this. Inwardly hope starts to kindle and it's becoming easier to breathe. But at the same time, the cynical side of me is warning me that I've heard this before and it's only ever led to heartbreak. I push aside both, choosing instead to close my eyes and block out the entire world.


	19. Chapter 19

By the time we board the GEH jet at 9:30PM, I am beyond relieved. I've spent the entire afternoon with my eyes darting towards Ana every few minutes, terrified that the adrenaline rush she experienced at the police station would fade and she would come to her senses about putting as much distance between us as she can. She hasn't run yet and I'll do everything to keep that from happening. For the first time in far too long, I felt as though she and I were a unit again as we left the station. That feeling only strengthened in the car when we talked.

I keep coming back to the last thing she said to me: that her biggest fear is that loving me will leave her broken and alone the way it did Leila and Lucy. I did that. I turned a wonderful, smart, innocent girl into a shell of herself. I've never been more ashamed of myself or my actions. If I had any sense, I'd get her back to Seattle, make sure she was settled, and leave her to live her life. Unfortunately for all of us, when it comes to Anastasia, all my sense goes out the window. I'll do anything she wants me to do at this point. If she asks me to leave, I'll do it. If she tells me she wants a divorce, I'll give it to her as well as everything I have to ensure her happiness. It would absolutely kill me to end our marriage, but I'll do it if that's what she wants.

Of course, I'm getting way ahead of myself at the moment. We've just gotten Teddy settled in the bedroom at the back of the jet and take our own seats across from one another as we prepare for takeoff. I want to say something to her, anything, really, but I'm not sure there's anything either of us can add to everything we've shared today. Looking at her expression, she feels the same.

"When we land," I say quietly, drawing her attention, "it'll still be early enough in Seattle that we can have dinner with my parents if you want. Or we can just go back to the house, deal with everyone later."

She sighs as she thinks over the possibilities. "Do they know we're coming home?"

I shake my head. "No. I didn't want to draw any more attention than there already is. I have no doubt in my mind that once the press gets wind that you've returned, they'll be all over us; no reason to lay them any bait."

That, and after the conversations I've had with my family over the last week or so, I've started avoiding them. To say they're disgusted with me and my actions is an understatement. I can't handle facing them right now, but if Ana wants to see them...

"I think I just want to go home," she says in a small voice, curled up in her chair like a little girl. My heart wrenches and I want to tear off my seatbelt and pull her into my arms.

I settle for nodding. "That's fine," I tell her. She nods back and settles more into her seat, closing her eyes. The moment I'm certain she's asleep, I unbuckle myself and stand, reaching overhead for a pillow and blanket. I gently lift her head without waking her, then tuck the blanket around her, remembering the very first time I saw her sleep. Despite having passed out from drinking, I couldn't help but think how incredibly sweet and beautiful she looked. She had been the most angelic thing I had ever seen in my life. When she sleeps, all her worries and concerns go away leaving the most peaceful expression on her face. I will give anything to see that face every morning for the rest of my life. I lean over her, pressing my lips to her forehead, taking the moment to inhale her sweet scent before pulling away and whispering in her ear, "I love you, Anastasia. That will never change."

I hear her sigh softly in her sleep and her face relaxes even further. Leaving her to rest, I head towards the front of the jet where Taylor is sitting. He nods at me as I sit across from him. "So are you going to tell me what the hell was going on in that room with Ana?" I ask quietly, noticing his wince as he adjusts how he's sitting.

He snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes. "Let's just say all the training I had in the military did nothing to prepare me for a pissed off woman who actually knows how to disarm a man," he mutters. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking for more information. "She was doing fine up until Miss Hastings started talking about the two of you being..." his eyes scan the area looking for a suitable word, " _intimate_. She caught me off guard and I'm almost certain she was going for my sidearm. Of course I didn't have it; the police wouldn't allow it, but if I had..."

The thought of Ana getting hold of Taylor's gun and busting into the room where Lucy and I were is a horrifying one that will give me reason to insist my security team stop carrying weapons altogether.

"Speaking of injuries, sir, how's your hand?"

I glance down at my bandaged hand, the one I used to punch the wall when Lucy started in on Ana. "Nothing broken," I say, still unable to flex my fingers. "I'll recover."

Taylor nods and we fall into silence. Every so often I glance behind me to check that Ana is still asleep. When I turn away from her, I find my head of security watching me with an unfamiliar expression on his face. I raise an eyebrow in question. He hesitates only a moment. "The first time I met Ana," he begins quietly, "I wanted to pull her aside and tell her to run as far from you as possible."

Normally I might be annoyed by this line of discussion, but I find myself smiling wryly. "I tried that," I inform him. "It didn't work."

"I was terrified that this sweet girl was going to become another number for you," Taylor goes on. "Of course, it wasn't my place to say it, and it probably isn't now, but I hope you'll let me continue."

My brow furrows. It isn't often Taylor tries to make personal conversation, but if this is going where I think it is, I could use all the help I can get. "Go on," I urge.

Surprise passes through his eyes very briefly before he's looking over my shoulder to where my wife is sleeping. "I didn't think she was going to last. She might have looked your type, but she sure as hell never acted it and I admit I enjoyed watching her turn your perfectly controlled world upside down."

I smile at the memories of those early days with Ana. She frustrated me like no other woman as ever done, made me think and feel things I never thought I would.

"Then I started seeing the change in you," Taylor says, turning his gaze back onto me. "In all the time I've known you, you never pursued a woman; you never needed to. Watching you pull all the stops just to see her was... Well, it made me realize you really are human. You both made some mistakes early on. Maybe you moved into things a little too quickly. But Ana grew on me almost immediately and I enjoyed seeing both of you so happy."

"Where's this going?" I ask quietly.

Taylor's jaw tenses, unmistakable anger in his eyes. "That first night with the Hastings girl," he says, keeping his voice low. "I wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and beat the shit out of you for even considering throwing away your marriage. Obviously I'm not privy to every single interaction between you and your wife, nor would I want to be, but regardless of whatever problems you had, that was the best thing you had going. It wasn't my place to say anything to you or to Ana—though god knows I wanted to—so I kept silent, hoping you'd come to your senses. When it kept happening, I had to remind myself over and over that I'm not your fucking friend, and it's not in my fucking job description to lecture you about being an asshole. You can fire me for this if you want, but the day you went home and you found your family had left you, I was relieved. To me, it showed she hadn't been completely broken and maybe she could recover from this." He reaches for his water bottle to take a sip and it occurs to me this is the most I've heard him talk at once during the entire time I've known him. "Yeah, it pissed you off and it hurt, but if I was her, I'd have done a hell of a lot worse than just leaving.

"After everything, though, she's still willing to give you a chance. I don't know why she would even want to or whether it'll even work out, but you're getting what has to be your fifth second chance since you've known her. All I can do is stand on the sidelines and hope when this is over and the dust clears, she can still figure out who she is without you. You've got a great thing sitting in that seat back there, Grey, and you'd better do everything possible to get her back, or you really will be the most miserable son of a bitch on the face of this fucking planet."

I'm not sure if that's a threat or statement of fact; either way, I nod my agreement. "Anything else?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Just one," Taylor sits forward in his chair so his elbows are resting on his knees. "If my daughter were in the same situation as Ana right now, I wouldn't hesitate to beat the living shit out of the sorry bastard who hurt her. I've met Ray Steele; I know he feels the same. I'm not saying I think of Ana as my daughter, but I can promise you, if you hurt her again, I'm going to make a call to Ray and whoever else, and you will regret it."

Definitely a threat this time. I would certainly never take this sort of conversation from the vast majority of the people in my life and normally I'd be sending Taylor to the unemployment line, but all things considered, I understand where he's coming from on this. Over the years, he's witnessed any number of things that would send others running and he's always remained loyal to me. I've known all along he had a soft spot for Ana, and I know over the last year I've asked more of him than I ever have. Looking back, it might have been too much to ask of him—after all, he is a married man and I don't believe he would ever be the type to cheat on Gail or even keep things from her that he wasn't bound to keep secret due to his NDA. He spent much of my five-month affair with Lucy lying to Ana for me. Just the fact that he hasn't walked away from me for good proves he's more than worth his weight in gold.

"Understood, Jason," I say quietly. "And if I haven't said before, thank you. When we get back to Seattle, I'd like for you and Gail to take a few nights off. Take her wherever the two of you would like to go, and of course it's on me."

For the first time since I met him, Jason Taylor actually looks surprised at something I've said or done. It's a brief moment before he composes himself again, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Mr. Grey," he mutters, looking anywhere but at me. "That's very generous of you."

I subdue my laugh and leave him to his reading before going back to check on my sleeping son, then my wife. As I settle back in my chair, watching how peaceful she is right now, I feel my own eyelids getting heavy and within moments, I'm asleep as well.

* * *

After one of the best sleeps I've had in a year, I feel myself being shaken awake. My first instinct is to swat away the hand pressing against my shoulder, but the moment I do, I hear a deep, soft chuckle and remember where I am. Opening my eyes reluctantly, I'm more than pleased to see the gorgeous face of my husband smiling back at me from where he's kneeling in front of my seat.

"Where're we?" I mumble, stretching my arms overhead and arching my back to loosen my muscles a bit. When I meet his gaze again, the sweet, amused expression in his eyes has darkened, which is apparently the signal to set my body, tingling.

Christian clears his throat and pushes himself to his feet. "Seattle," he says, his voice a little stiffer than before. "We just landed."

My brow furrows in surprise. I know the GEH jet is top of the line, but surely it needed to refuel at some point during a flight that long...

"When we landed in D.C. to refuel," Christian answers my unasked question, "you were still sound asleep and I know you weren't sleeping well, so I didn't have the heart to wake you."

My eyes widen at his thoughtfulness, though I'm not sure why I'm surprised; Christian can be sweet and caring when he wants to be. "Thank you," I say, smiling shyly for some reason.

He returns to the shyness. "You're welcome. Are you ready to go home now?"

I don't respond out loud, instead pushing myself from my seat and trying not to acknowledge the sudden nerves that have made themselves apparent on my husband's face. Obviously he still thinks I'm going to change my mind. He doesn't have to worry about that. I need the comfort of my own home, or at least the home in which I spent years being happy. The house on the sound is the only real home Teddy has ever known. He knows every inch of that place—the best places to hide when we play hide and seek; the little shortcuts to use when we're chasing each other through the house—and I can see him bouncing beside Christian in his eagerness to get back there.

It's still early afternoon in Seattle, which I know will throw off my body's internal clock, but it's overcast and gray and threatening rain. I smile at the welcome sight. Christian, Teddy, and I pile into the back of yet another black SUV. We wait only a minute or two for our luggage to be removed from the jet then Taylor takes the driver's seat while Sawyer sits beside him.

I'm going home.

* * *

The second we walk in the door, we're greeted by what smells like cookies from the kitchen and when the door shuts, Gail comes out to say hello, pulling me into a hug and welcoming me home. Her expression tells me that while she might not know the entire story of what happened in London, Taylor's brought her up to speed enough that she's looking at me sympathetically. We're told dinner will be served early, since we're probably still on London time and exhausted. I smile gratefully as everyone but Christian leaves the hallway.

"I hate to do this so soon after you come home," he begins reluctantly, "but I have some business to take care of in my study. I've got to start moving everything back here from London, but I will be having dinner with you."

My brow furrows at his words. "So you were really going to move everything there because Teddy and I were there?" I ask quietly. I know he had every intention of working from London, but I assumed that would be the extent of it.

"Yes," he tells me as though it should have been obvious. "Ros was scheduled to move out next week; I'm sure she'll be relieved not to have to do that now. We were going to setup offices in downtown London."

I'm staring at him in awe. It's one thing for a man to uproot himself from his entire life and business, but another thing entirely to move that business with what was probably not even a second thought. I'm not naïve enough to believe I was the motivating factor in his decision—the safety of his son was probably at the forefront of his mind—but it means a lot to me that he would go to such great lengths to be with us.

Christian shuffles uneasily on his feet and I realize I haven't responded to his words yet. "I don't know if you thought about where you want to sleep—our bedroom is made up, but..."

I tear my eyes from him, trying not to see the hope on his face. "I think I would prefer one of the guest rooms for the time being," I hear myself saying.

He lets out a shuddering breath, nodding heavily. "Of course," he agrees. "I'll take your things up on my way to the study."

Without another word, he turns from me, grabbing my suitcases and pulling them along with him. I find myself wandering through the house, not really looking for anything in particular, just trying to reacquaint myself. The brief period I was here only a few weeks ago didn't allow me to settle in as much as I had wanted; I was more concerned about how Christian and I were interacting to really give myself the chance to relax.

I'm feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden as I think of the reasons that brought me back here. Elena Lincoln—the woman continually goes to unthinkable lengths to destroy my marriage. I still don't understand her motivation to buy into Canton Publishing. What did she think would happen? That I might suck it up and put myself through the hell of having her as a boss? Not fucking likely. This wasn't the first time I've seen Christian stand up to her in my presence—the memorable events of his birthday several years ago after he announced our engagement will forever live in infamy in my mind—and he said much the same thing this time as he had then: that he was done with her. Only a handful of months went by before I found out he saw her again, the night I told him I was pregnant with our son. Part of me wants to trust that he's done with her for good this time, that she's finally done something that might make him realize how very toxic she is to him, but past experience tells me not to get my hopes up too much until I see something tangible.

Her words to Christian come flying back at me, twisting the knife even deeper into me: _"I'm only sorry things didn't work out with you and Lucy; she was perfect for you."_ Granted I now realize the reason Lucy seemed so perfect for Christian is down to Elena coaching her on how to look and act. Her words were meant to hurt me—well, they sure as hell hit their target—but having finally seen Lucy in person, I can almost see why Christian seemed to fall so hard for her. She was me. At least when it came to physical appearances. It wouldn't surprise me to find out her personality is very close to mine as well.

On one level, the self-loathing part of my mind that reminds me over and over I've never believed myself good enough for Christian, is relieved he chose somebody so like me—the me I had been in the beginning of our relationship. I hadn't been the only person wanting to find that time again. If he'd chosen someone who was the opposite of me in every way, wouldn't that just show he didn't want me at all anymore?

The rest of me is utterly disgusted by these thoughts that seem to justify my husband having an affair. We both fucked up. The fact that neither of us could come to the other and actually communicate our problems was the cause of our marriage breakdown. Lately communication has improved slightly, though I have to admit the most communication is being done after some sort of drama passes.

That is the first thing that needs to change, followed closely by my regaining my trust for him, if that's even possible after this.

I'm standing in the middle of the backyard without any real memory of being here. I remember clearly the first time Christian brought me to this house, shortly after he proposed and was hoping to convince me to say yes. He wanted to knock the house down and build from scratch; I convinced him to just make a few updates to the existing house. But what I really fell in love with was this view. I can step out onto the back deck and look out at the Puget Sound. One of the first things I did when we moved into this house was make my way out into the meadow where I just laid in the grass for what could have been hours. Christian joined me eventually and we remained there until it was too dark while we talked about our future, taking turns to place our hands on my very pregnant belly to feel Teddy kick. Everything seemed so bright back then. We should have had nothing but happiness in front of us. I don't want to think that was an illusion, but reality kicked in too quickly, reminding me that nothing and nobody was perfect. I thought I'd known this; I'd been wrong.

I jump and yelp as a pair of arms encircle my waist, but relax when I hear Christian's chuckle. "Sorry," he says, his mouth against my temple. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"And yet..." I try to sound annoyed, but we both know I'm not.

"Well, I did try yelling for you, but you were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear me."

"Oh," I respond. "Sorry."

He squeezes my middle a little. "No worries. I just came to tell you dinner's ready."

I nod, though neither of us actually makes any real move to head towards the house. We've both relaxed more than we've done in months and we're not eager to break whatever this moment is.

"I'm glad you're home," Christian whispers into my ear. "I'm sorry it happened like this, but what matters is you're here. This is our new beginning, Anastasia, and I'll do whatever I can to make it count."

I sigh. "I'm glad to be home as well," I reply cautiously, still looking out at the water. "I want to believe your words, but..."

"I know," he says when I trail off. "Actions speak louder. I'm working on that."

Nodding, I relax into his hold and we stay there until I begin to shiver. He leads me back to the house with his arm protectively around my shoulders. Gail kept dinner warm for us and gives us a bright smile when she sees us walking in together. Christian tells her to take the rest of the night off and pack for her vacation with Taylor. Dinner is wonderful. The food is amazing as always when Gail cooks, Christian and I are both relaxed, and our moods are making our son happier by the second. Despite how I felt about leaving London, I think this was the right decision, if not for me, then for Teddy.

After dinner, much to my surprise, Christian pours me a glass of wine and sends me into the family room with our son to watch television while he does the dishes. I give him a skeptical glance when he tells me what he's going to do, but he rolls his eyes and shoos me away. I keep expecting to hear breaking dishes, but he manages to finish his chore in under an hour and joins me on the couch with his own wine. We're watching some cartoon that Teddy is hypnotized by, though Christian and I spend more time stealing glances at one another than actually paying attention. For the first time in far too long, I actually feel like we're a family again and I don't want the evening to end. I don't know how long this will last if I don't draw it out as long as possible.

It does end, though; Teddy is fast asleep on the floor. Christian picks him up expertly and gently takes him upstairs while I gather our wine glasses to take them to the kitchen. I chuckle when I find the dishes Christian was supposed to wash stacked neatly in the sink. Still dirty. I'll deal with them in the morning. After rinsing out the wine glasses, I place them on the stack and turn around, jumping in surprise again to find Christian leaning against the fridge, watching me with glazed eyes.

"Been there long?" I ask, smiling.

He smiles slowly before pushing himself off the fridge again. "Long enough," he answers evasively. "Teddy is still fast asleep. How are you feeling? Tired?"

I nod. "Exhausted, actually." My tone is surprisingly apologetic. I realize it's because I want to keep spending time with _this_ Christian, the fun, carefree Christian that I fell in love with so long ago.

His smile turns understanding. "Sleep, then," he says gently. "I've still got some work to do and I'll probably be gone before you wake in the morning, but I'll be home at a reasonable hour."

I try to remember the last time he gave me such a detailed summary of his plans, though most wives wouldn't consider that detailed, and I'm coming up with nothing. Perhaps this is part of his new beginning for us and I hope he keeps it up for the foreseeable.

Christian walks me to the guest bedroom and I feel a sense of déjà vu from the last time I was here, though this time I'm feeling much more comfortable being under his gaze. He brushes my hair back on his face, his fingers grazing my skin, making me shiver. Hesitantly, not taking his eyes off mine, he bends down enough to place his lips over mine briefly. My eyes flutter closed at the touch, but before I can even touch him, he's pulling away from me. I want to protest and judging by the look on his face, so does he; we don't, though.

"Good night, Anastasia," he whispers hoarsely.

I smile in response as he turns away to head down the hallway to his study. Sighing with frustration I didn't know I was feeling I enter the bedroom and change into my pajamas before falling into bed. As I fall asleep, I wonder how long it'll be before Christian tries pushing things farther between us. We've always been a sexually charged couple, at least before the last year or so, and for us to spend so much time together without being all over each other is unusual. I certainly won't push things too far too soon; I fear if we give into our desires so soon, I'll only be able to picture the video I saw of him and Lucy together, forever ruining that aspect of our lives.

At this point, I think I'll just follow Christian's lead. Knowing him, he's got everything planned and outlined as far as our reconciliation goes. I'm willing to go along with it for now, because I want to see how he plans on fixing things between us.

This is his last chance. There will be no warnings this time around. If he fucks up again, I'm done for good and there will be no going back. I really hope he understands this otherwise we're not going to get anywhere.


	20. Chapter 20

The next morning with Christian gone, I was able to start getting myself back into the swing of life in Seattle. Teddy and I had pancakes and bacon, and then he went off to play while I took care of the breakfast dishes as well as the ones from dinner last night. With that done, I once again found myself wandering my home until I was in front of the master bedroom door. It was closed and just the thought of opening it seemed wrong. Of course this was ridiculous; this was my bedroom, the one I used to share with my husband. I have some very wonderful memories behind this door, memories I share with my husband and son. Christian told me he hasn't slept here since I left, that he's moved into one of the guest bedrooms down the hall. I still don't know the reasoning behind this, but I'm oddly satisfied with that knowledge; the last thing I wanted to think about was him curled up in our bed, stretched out across the mattress and comfortable while I was sleeping alone in my own cold bed in London.

With inexplicably shaking hands, I reach out to push down the handle and open the bedroom door. The first thing I see is the giant bed directly across from the double doors. It's expertly made up—by Gail, of course—and almost looks as though it belongs in a museum or something without even a wrinkle in the duvet. To my right is the giant bay window that gives a view of our backyard. I couldn't tell you how many nights Christian and I curled up together, just staring out that window. It always calmed me in a way not much could, especially when he was away on business trips. I'd lay on his side of the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, staring out that window, and think about how lucky I had been to find my husband.

I roll my eyes at the thought. I was so naïve...

Taking tentative steps through the door, I realize immediately Christian hadn't been lying about not sleeping here. The room was cold and ignored, nothing like it had been before I left seven months ago. The only thing that proved somebody hadn't forgotten the room even existed is the bouquet of flowers arranged in a vase on my side of the bed. They're a variety of wild flowers and roses that Christian bought me the day we moved in. I've never seen them wilt or drop even a single petal; in fact, I actually felt them a couple years ago to see whether they were real. I never mentioned them to Christian, but I know every time they start to get old, he replaces them. I wonder if he's been replacing them the entire time I was gone. Right beside the vase on my nightstand are my wedding and engagement rings. They're exactly where I left them and I wonder if Christian ever touched them. I touch them myself cautiously as though they might disintegrate with even the slightest touch. I look down at my bare left ring finger. The tan lines where my rings once sat have disappeared almost completely. Pulling back my hand, I wonder if I'll ever put them on again; I don't know what it is I'm waiting for, but I know I'm not ready to wear them yet.

Sighing, I turn away from the nightstand to check out the rest of the room. Inside my walk-in closet, everything is as I remember. When I packed to leave, I didn't know where it was I would go, but I knew I'd have no use for all the dresses and fancy clothes I'd bought over the years. My fingers run across the fabrics and I smile at the memories some of the clothes I'd worn to some sort of charity or business function. Back in the bedroom, I find myself at my dresser, which used to carry my day-to-day clothing until I cleaned it out when I left. Almost reverently, I open the simple wooden jewelry box in which my charm bracelet sits in the exact pile I'd left it. Aside from my rings, this was the thing that hurt most to remove from my body. I hadn't taken it off since the day Christian gave it to me on my birthday years ago. Every year since that day, he's given me a new one: there's a little teddy bear for my first birthday as a mother; a little book that symbolized my work at Grey Publishing; a car steering wheel that went along with the brand-new car he gave me a couple years back; and a little tie I'm sure he had specially made. It resembles its full-size twin, the one of Christian's that makes me weak in the knees just seeing, right down to the patterns. The look on Christian's face when I recognized it told him he had known exactly how I would react and he was pleased to know he was right. He then pulled the real tie from his pocket, dangling it in front of my face, until I tackled him to the bed.

I realize with a jolt my birthday is coming up again in a few weeks and I wonder whether he'll carry on the tradition. Do I even want him to? Had his affair with Lucy already begun this time last year? I don't want to know. I really don't. I think I've come to the conclusion that if I keep thinking about the affair, Christian and I will never get anywhere. We'll keep sinking deeper into the black hole in which we're currently residing. I have to find a way to get past this.

I roll my eyes again as I realize it's going to take a whole hell of a lot more to get me to forget that fucking video.

* * *

Around lunchtime, I receive a call from Grace welcoming me home and asking if I might be interested in having dinner with her sometime later in the week, just the two of us. Before I can really process the reasoning for this, I'm saying yes and we arrange a time and a place to meet. I think I know exactly what we'll be talking about over dinner—I haven't spoken to my mother-in-law since the end of summer party I flew in from London to attend, which means this will be the first time I've seen and spoken to her since she found out the truth about why I left Christian. He called his family after Teddy's kidnapping so they heard it from him rather than the media and I know he told them exactly who Lucy was in connection to us. What I don't know is their responses to the revelation that he had an affair, though when he'd come in from the patio after calling them he was ashen-faced and tense-jawed.

I wonder whether they know about his continued relationship with Elena Lincoln. Part of me wants to tell Grace about it, knowing she'd be able to help me knock some sense into him. The other part knows telling her Christian was still seeing her after the birthday party fiasco when Grace found out that Elena and Christian had an affair when he was fifteen will only break her heart even more. Grace has become the mother I never had. Ever since I met her, she's been nothing but sweet and supportive, and I don't know if I can put her through that pain. It's enough that she knows he had an affair so recently; what would be the point in bringing Elena into the picture as well?

For once Teddy doesn't fight me on taking his afternoon nap; I think he's still on London time and exhausted, so the moment his little head hits the pillow, he's out cold. I sit beside him for a few minutes, just watching him, and think I never would have gotten through the last seven months if I didn't have him to keep me going. Throughout everything I knew I couldn't just lie down and give up, because I had my son to care for and I needed to be strong for him, no matter how much I wanted to.

"I love you, baby boy," I whisper, bending down to softly kiss his forehead before sliding off the bed and leaving the room.

Almost the moment I arrive downstairs, the house phone rings. I pick it up in the kitchen and start making myself a sandwich. "Hello?"

"Ana." I smile a little at the sound of Christian's voice, though I'm well aware of the relief in his tone. "You're home."

I raise an eyebrow even though he can't actually see me do it. "Where else would I be?" I respond.

He doesn't answer right away, but I think I understand what's going on in his mind: he was afraid the moment he left for work, I'd pack up and leave again. "How's your day going?" he asks softly.

"All right," I tell him. "I just got Teddy settled for his nap and I'm making myself some lunch. Oh, and your mother called; she wants to have dinner with me on Thursday night."

"Did she?" Surprise fills his voice.

"She did," I confirm.

I hear him sigh as he puts the pieces of the puzzle together. "Well, I'm sure you'll have a good time."

I'm not nearly as convinced given what I think we'll be talking about, but I keep that thought to myself. "I thought you had meetings all day?" I ask instead.

"I do; I'm currently in between meetings and I just wanted to call and make sure you were okay," he says. "I should go. Hopefully I'll be able to get out of here at a reasonable time this evening." He pauses for a moment. "Ana, I don't know if you've thought about it or not, but I think we should make an appointment to see Dr. Flynn. I need to see him regardless, but I'd like you to join me. If you want, of course."

My eyebrows rise in surprise. Of all the times we've gone to see Flynn throughout our marriage, Christian has always made the appointments without my input. It was a mandatory thing. "I think that's a great idea," I tell him quietly. "Have you already made the appointment?"

"No," he responds, sounding relieved again. "I wanted to check with you first. I thought about making it for Thursday, but since you're having dinner with Grace, I'll have to check my schedule again. Do you have any preferences on which day?"

"I don't. Whatever works for you."

"Okay," he says with a sigh. I hear voices in the background. "Baby, I'm sorry, I have to get going. My next appointment is here. I'll see you this evening in time for dinner."

I smile to myself. "I look forward to it," I tell him genuinely. "Have a good afternoon."

"You, too, baby," he says softly. "I love you, Ana." Before I can respond, the line goes dead, which means he didn't expect me to return the words.

With Teddy still asleep a few hours later, I find myself bored. For some reason, I end up outside Christian's study, remembering the last confrontation we had in here: the night I saw the video of him and Lucy. Against my better judgment, I'm entering the room and crossing to Christian's huge executive desk. Nothing about this room has changed a bit. He's still got the photos he took of the two of us on our honeymoon curled up together, one taken just after I gave birth to Teddy. I look horrible in this picture, still drugged from the C-section, but I somehow managed a smile as I looked down at my baby boy. Christian maintains I'd never been more beautiful than at that moment; I always thought he was just way too biased.

One thing catches my eye: a stack of paperwork, on top of which is a copy of a restraining order against Elena Lincoln. She's not to come with a thousand feet of me, Teddy, or Christian; if she does, she will be immediately arrested and jailed. Reading this, I almost want to be in her presence again just so I can watch her getting arrested. Below the restraining order is a copy of the separation agreement I filed for and gave Christian last time I was in Seattle. The pages look as though they've been handled several dozen times. In light of everything, I'm not sure there's any real point in filing the paperwork to make them official; I've agreed to try and work things out with Christian and it would seem counterproductive to file it now. For now it's enough that he knows I'm serious about ending our marriage if it comes to that.

I jump guiltily when my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I'm not entirely sure why I'm feeling guilty about being in Christian's study, but I almost feel as though I'm trespassing. Sighing to myself, I pull out my phone and read the text message he sent me.

 ***Flynn's only got one open appointment this week, which is tonight at seven. Do you want that one or should I make an appt for next week?***

Again with the checking with me before doing something... I think I'm starting to like this new Christian. Though I'm still tired from the time difference and not quite in the mood to jump right back into the fire of events that have occurred over the last year, I respond to Christian's text:

 ***Tonight is fine. What time is the opening so I can make arrangements for a babysitter for Teddy?***

He responds immediately. ***Six o'clock. I think my parents have something going on tonight, but you could call Mia or Kate; I'm sure they'll be able to watch him for a couple hours.***

I sigh. Neither of them knows I'm back in Seattle and I have a feeling Kate will be annoyed that I didn't tell her I was coming back. Oh well. She'll get over it...

I send her a quick text, telling her I'm back and asking if she and Elliot would mind keeping Teddy for the evening. Rather than replying via text, she calls back within five minutes. She wants to know what's going on with Lucy and why I suddenly decided to return home and whether Christian pressured me into the decision. I assure her my return was completely my choice and she seems satisfied for the moment. She says she's got no problem watching Teddy tonight and I tell her Christian and I will drop him off on our way to Flynn's office. I know she wants more details on what's going on, but I'm not ready to get into it just yet. The moment she hears exactly what's been going on she's probably going to want to beat the shit out of Christian, so I need to make sure when I do tell her, we're a safe distance from my husband and that she won't be seeing him for a couple days.

After that phone call, I hear Teddy moving around upstairs. He and I spend the rest of our afternoon playing outside, and I love how happy he is having a place to run around again. I'd thought I had made the right decision taking him from his home after what Christian did, but I realize now just how miserable he's been since we've been away and I know I'll never put him through something like this again. He needs his family as much as I do.

Around four o'clock, I start making dinner for Teddy, since I'm not sure when Christian will be home and I want to make sure he's fed before dropping him off with Kate and Elliot. We settle on premade macaroni and cheese Gail prepared and put in the freezer. As we sit down at the kitchen bar to eat, the front door opens and closes, and I hear Christian's footsteps coming our way. Teddy jumps off his stool to rush his father for a hug. Christian picks him up and gives him what he wants, all the while watching me with a small smile. I get the feeling again that he's surprised to find me here still.

"Hi," he says quietly, setting Teddy back on his stool to finish his dinner.

He lingers beside me for a few moments as though he's trying to decide whether it's okay to kiss me like he always did when he came home from work or not. "Hi," I respond, giving him a smile of my own. "Hungry? We made mac and cheese."

"I see that," he tells me approvingly, turning towards the stove to get himself a dish of food before coming back to sit beside me. "How was the rest of your day?"

I gave him a quick rundown with Teddy's help on the games we played. Of course, Teddy monopolizes the conversation, happily exaggerating the details. Between bites, I glance at Christian, finding him looking more relaxed than I've seen him in too long. Sensing my gaze, he tears his eyes from our son to look at me, his brow furrowed in thought.

After dinner, Christian goes upstairs to change out of his suit and into jeans and a polo shirt. Along with his just-fucked hair and leather jacket, I feel myself being reduced to teenage girl drooling all over a boy. He sees my expression and smirks to himself, but doesn't comment as we start to head out for Kate's. Surprisingly we don't spend too much time with Kate and Elliot. I think they're both biding their time until I get the chance to tell them my side of the story, though Elliot is being oddly cold with his brother while treating me exactly the way he always has. Christian notices, but doesn't push the subject, and we're on our way to Flynn's.

He's quiet. Every time I look at him, his entire body is tense and I know it's his nerves getting to him, just as they did the first time we went to see Flynn together. I don't think there's any new information that I'm going to find out—at least I hope not—though I do know it's going to be an awkward evening. Knowing Flynn, we'll be delving straight into the affair, then talk about Elena. I want to try and reassure Christian that I'm not running again, that I've accepted the worst of it even if I haven't quite forgiven him yet, but I can't find the strength to do it.

We pull into a parking spot, Christian shuts off the ignition, and we sit in silence for a few minutes before he takes a deep breath and turns towards me. "I don't know whether it's worth anything," he begins slowly, "but whatever happens this evening, please remember that I love you and I will never put you through this pain again. I can't lose you again, Ana, and I spent my entire day terrified that when I got home you'd be gone and that would be the end of me."

"Christian," I sigh, resting my head against the window. "I know this isn't easy for either of us, but I've told you I want to work on our relationship. Unless you do something as fucking stupid as what you've already done, I'm not going anywhere. I will say this, though: even if our marriage can be saved, I will never forget what you did and it's going to take a hell of a lot for me to trust you again."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know."

Without thinking, I reach over for his hand, bringing his knuckles to my lips. "Despite everything, I love you, too. That's never changed. We need communication and honesty from now on no matter how much we think it might hurt the other. It's the only way I'm going to get past this."

With another nod, Christian reluctantly pulls his hand from my grasp so we can get out of the car. The second we meet up to walk into the building, he takes my hand in his and holds it as though if he loosens his grip too much, I'll disappear. Before I know it, we're entering Flynn's office and I find myself smiling at the good doctor. He seems surprised to see me which makes me wonder whether Christian told him I was even back in the States, let alone joining in on the evening's session.

Christian and I sit on the couch with about a cushion's worth of space between us. He rests his hand near me in case I want to take it; I find myself unable to do so.

Flynn sits in the chair across from us, crossing one leg over the other and resting his notepad on his knee. "Welcome back, Ana," he says kindly. "How did you find my home country?"

I smile. "Most of it was enjoyable," I tell him honestly. "The rest, not so much."

He smiles understandingly, looking between Christian and me. "I heard about the trouble with Teddy. I trust he's doing well?"

Christian nods. "He is, thank god. No permanent damage to anybody but us." He gestures between the two of us.

"And Lucy's involvement?" Flynn prompts. I close my eyes, inwardly shaking my head. Of course Christian told Flynn about the affair. But was Flynn privy to the information before or after I found out?

"She was the one who took him," Christian says quietly, avoiding my gaze altogether. "She's currently sitting in a London jail awaiting trial."

Flynn nods. "Well, it might be some comfort to know she will very likely receive the maximum punishment for kidnap. We Brits don't take that sort of thing lightly."

Surprisingly, that is actually a small comfort.

"Before we left yesterday, Ana and I went to the jail to speak with Lucy," Christian says quietly.

Eyes widening in shock, Flynn sat forward a little. "And how did that go?" The question is directed at me.

"Could have been worse," I tell him. "I'm glad I had the chance to confront her finally, but I could have done without much of the conversation between her and Christian." Christian flinches as though I've hit him. "I still don't know how much of it was true and how much was fabricated."

"Most of it was true," Christian murmurs suddenly.

"Does that include what she said about you being in love with her?" I ask. If this is how he wants to get into it, I'm game.

"I never told her I loved her," Christian says cautiously.

Flynn clears his throat. "It's not necessarily all words to show someone you love them, Christian," he interjects. "Actions speak louder, after all."

Sighing, Christian nods.

"I'm only asking one more time," I go on, "so please make it count: Did you love her?"

His eyes close and his shoulders slump in defeat. "At one point, I believed I might have," he says. "I don't know what it was I was looking for, but I seemed to find it in her. I hated myself for it, but it got to the point that I couldn't go two days without seeing her. When I had to, you and I tended to fight more because I was on edge, waiting for the next time I'd see her. I couldn't stop it and at the time I didn't want to. I thought you were leaving me, Ana, and I didn't know what else to do."

"You could have fought for me!" I exclaim loudly. "I would have done anything to get our marriage back on track. Instead we both bottled everything up until we argued and the situation got worse and worse."

"You mean like you fought for me?" he shots back, suddenly losing his patience. "Ana, you're the one who packed their things to leave. I never had any indication before I even started the affair that you were thinking of leaving."

Before I can retort with something equally as hurtful, Flynn intervenes. "We're not here to place blame," he tells us firmly. "Ana, tell me what it was that made you want to leave. Before the affair, I mean."

I sigh, slouching against the couch. "I didn't know if I could continue my marriage with the way things were going. Christian and I were just drifting farther apart and our resentment towards each other was driving the wedge between us. I was sick of being treated like a child by my husband with him telling me I needed to cut back on my hours at work or that I wasn't spending enough time with our son or I wasn't giving him whatever it was he needed."

"And why did you never mention your concerns to Christian?"

I bristle at the question; if I didn't know any better, I'd say the tone Flynn was using suggested he was siding with my husband on this. I know this is supposed to be a conversation starter, something to make us open up to one another. "Because I was afraid he'd treat my concerns the same way he treated everything else in his life: like it didn't matter to him that I was miserable as long as his supposedly perfect life kept on going exactly as he wanted it to."

The bitterness in my voice surprises me, though not as much as it does Christian apparently. "When did I ever make you feel like that?" he begs quietly. "Ana, if I'd known how unhappy you were, I'd have done everything to fix it."

"I told you what I wanted," I tell him sadly. "I wanted a second child. When you kept shooting me down for that, I decided I'd need to find something else to occupy my time, so I went back to work. As soon as I started getting comfortable being CEO of my own company, something you wanted me to be, you started trying to guilt me into staying home more often because I wasn't spending enough time with Teddy. If I stayed home day in, day out, you complained that I was moping around and I should get out more often. Christian, I couldn't win with you! Nothing I did was good enough! After a while, I just gave up. I felt like all you wanted was a trophy wife to parade around fundraisers or whatever. I tried to give you that, thinking that might fix things between us. It didn't."

Christian's expression is nothing short of stricken. I'm not done, though. "I told you already we're both to blame for the state of our marriage," I go on, trying to regain my composure. "Maybe I should have made more of an effort to talk to you. I didn't want to lose you, but I didn't feel as though we were anything but roommates who occasionally had sex."

Silence fills the room as I see Christian's eyes begin to water. Flynn breaks the quiet. "Ana, why did you decide to come home?"

I sigh. "Other than the fact that my husband's ex-mistress kidnapped my son, then his other ex was trying to buy into the company I just started to work for, you mean?" Flynn raises a questioning eyebrow. "Elena Lincoln used three million dollars Christian gave her for one of her businesses to invest in a London publishing house I was working for. When I was informed of this, I quit pretty much on the spot and decided I just needed out of the England."

"Three million dollars?" Flynn asks, looking at Christian. "I wasn't aware you were still in contact with Ms. Lincoln."

Christian shifts uncomfortably. "Nobody was," he mutters. "She came to me a while back telling me she was trying to get a new salon chain going, but she needed a bit of start-up capital, so for old time's sake, I gave it to her. From what I understand, the new salon was a fake. I still don't know why she needed the money, but she's been holding onto it for months until very recently. I should have known better, but for whatever reason, I couldn't stop myself meeting with her, confiding in her. My only defense, which is a weak one, is that before Ana, Elena was the only person who really knew me and I guess I just wasn't ready to give up on that."

I bite my tongue against the words struggling to get out—the ones that will remind him of the nature of his relationship with Elena. He knows my opinion about her; I'm sick of repeating myself. "You need to make a choice, Christian," I say tiredly. "Either choose Elena and whoever else comes into your life or choose me. I'm sick of being the only person in the world who doesn't know what you're thinking or how you're feeling. I'm sick of finding out you've lied to me again about seeing somebody you know I hate with every fiber of my being."

"I choose you," he said without hesitation. "From here on out, it's only you, Anastasia. I'll tell you anything you want to hear about."

"Ana, do you believe Christian when he says these things to you?"

I shake my head despondently. "No. I've heard it all before. When we first got together, he told me I'm the only one he's ever really let into his life. Five years later, I'm not the only one anymore. What does he need me for if it's so easy to find somebody else who's willing to give him the exact same thing unconditionally?"

"I need you," he says quietly, his voice wavering, "because you saved me. You brought light into my life, showed me I could have _more_ from life. If you hadn't come along, who the fuck knows where I'd be."

"You told me Elena saved you," I remind him painfully.

"In a way she did," he answers easily. "The path I was on when Elena and I started up would have landed me in prison or in the ground. Admittedly, the circumstances weren't exactly conventional, but she did bring me out of the abyss."

I swallow the bile rising in my throat. "All she did was pull you out of one abyss so she could throw you into a different one," I tell him.

"True," he concedes. "But the second you came along, you pulled me back to the surface where I belonged. You turned me into a better man. You made me a husband and a father. Everything I did, I did for my family. And all I did was take those wonderful gifts you've given me and thrown them back into your face like they didn't mean a thing to me. I've been selfish all my life and that hasn't changed, but I want it to. I need your help, Ana. I can't get through this alone. I don't want to."

I don't even notice I'm crying until Flynn passes me a box of tissues. "Why does it take me leaving you to come up with these things?" I want to know. "All the time when we still lived together you had no problem looking straight through me."

"You did the same to me," he whispers. His tone isn't accusatory; simply stating a fact. And I know he's right. Neither of us speak for minutes; we only stare at each other, trying to read the other's mind.

I don't know what else to say to him. I truly don't. And judging by the look on his face, he's waiting for me to say something more.

Eventually Flynn clears his throat, effectively breaking apart the silence. "We're nearing the end of our session," he informs us quietly. "Christian, would you mind stepping out for a moment while I have a quick word with Ana?"

Looking as though he wants nothing more than to argue, just as he looked on our first visit to Flynn, Christian manages a nod as he stands, his eyes darting nervously at me. I try to send him a reassuring smile as he leaves the room, but I don't think I've managed it.

"I realize Christian can be a difficult person to live with," Flynn begins the moment the door is closed behind my husband, "but I truly believe he's finally got his priorities in order. He's made some very impressive progress with a colleague of mine—I don't know whether he's mentioned seeing another therapist..." I nod to confirm Christian had mentioned it. "Obviously I can't go into detail about that progress, but I do want you to know he loves you very much."

"I know he does," I say weakly, staring at my fingers. "Christian loving me was never in question." I roll my eyes. "Or it wasn't until I found out about Lucy. I know he loves me and he wants us together again. I just don't know if I can."

Flynn nods as though he expected this answer from me. "I told you once to give Christian the benefit of the doubt. You did that. You took a chance on him and for a while things were picture perfect for the two of you—at least that's what it seemed like. I watched from afar whenever I was invited to charity functions as the two of you started pulling away from each other. As a friend, it was upsetting to witness, especially after seeing what Christian was like when he first met you, but I couldn't get involved. When you left Christian, I watched him slowly revert to the man he was before he met you. Cold. Angry. Lost. I could go on. Just having you in his presence has changed him again."

"So we're back to as long as Christian's happy, that's all that matters," I hear myself say bitterly.

Flynn's eyes widen at my outburst. "Ana, no. I would never say that. Your happiness is just as important. All I'm trying to say is that I hope you've come back to Seattle for the right reasons, not because it's what Christian wants. Christian told me one of the reasons you left and went to London was so you could regain independence. Don't let that go. You need your own identity. I think Christian is finally beginning to understand that. Only time will tell us for sure, though."

I nod. "How am I supposed to trust him?" I ask bleakly. "He's at work all day long, while I'm at the house wondering if he's _actually_ at work. And I know at some point he's going to leave for some business trip and I will be a nervous wreck the entire time he's gone. Or when he undoubtedly gets so caught up in whatever deal he's working on that he's too preoccupied to pay his family proper attention... My mind will shoot right back to the affair."

"It's natural," Flynn assures me gently. "Christian has to earn your trust again. You trusted him so completely in the beginning of your relationship that he's taken it for granted. He knows this. I can't tell you what decision to make, Ana. I can't tell you how whatever decision you make will turn out. But I _can_ tell you Christian will do whatever it takes to make you happy again. If that means living life without you, he's prepared to do that."

I blink as the words register in my mind. Christian's been fighting so hard to get us back together that I hadn't even considered his willingness to accept that we might not. I probably should have; he signed the separation agreement. That was before the kidnapping, though, and Elena. When I look up again, Christian has reentered the room and he's talking quietly with Flynn about something—they've moved across the room, probably to give me time to process things. Christian's eyes find me and I immediately recognize the sadness and fear in his expression.

We say goodbye to Flynn and walk silently to the elevator where we stand on opposite sides. Christian's hands are stuffed in his pockets, his head is bowed pensively, and I suddenly make a decision. I wait until we reach the car. He opens my door for me as always then walks around to get in himself.

I take a deep breath, drawing his attention. "Do you still want to take me on a date?" I ask, feeling shy all of a sudden.

His head snaps up to look at me so quickly I'm surprised he didn't get whiplash. "What?" he breathes.

I smile. "In London," I remind him. "You told me you wanted to take me out and I never answered. Is it too late to accept?"

Hope fills his eyes at my words and slowly his boyish smile spreads across his face. "No, of course not," he says softly, looking at me as though he can't believe what I'm asking. "Are you accepting?"

I pretend to think about it for a minute, trying to hide my twitching lips. "I think so," I finally answer when his face begins to fall.

He lets out a short laugh, relaxing into his seat, and he looks younger than he has in months. "Dammit, Ana," he says, shaking his head at me. "You scared the hell out of me. Here I was thinking that session just set us back even farther than before."

I sigh. "No," I tell him. "Christian, that wasn't anything we haven't discussed before. If anything, we were just being more honest. I don't want us to lose that. We need communication. We're both guilty of keeping things to ourselves when we think it's better that way. We can't think like that anymore. I want this to work. I want to prove to everybody that we belong together. But I can't do that on my own. I need your help, Christian."

"You've got it," he promises me, reaching over to take my hand in his. "We'll make this work, Ana. Somehow, we will make it work."

For the first time in a long time, I think I actually believe what he's saying.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. More coming soon!


	21. Chapter 21

Thursday evening arrived more quickly than I could have ever anticipated. I'm nervous and anxious and excited to have dinner with Grace. As I style my hair, I think over the last few days. Since the session with Flynn, things between Christian and me have gone more smoothly than they have in years. He's home from work right around dinnertime, leaves his cell phone in his study so he can spend time with us, and he seems happier. Neither of us has mentioned the upcoming date again. I know he's got something up his sleeve; whenever I look at him when he thinks I'm not paying attention, he's got this glazed expression in his eyes along with a little I've-got-a-secret smile. Saying good night to one another, usually hours after Teddy's gone to bed during which we just sit around talking, is becoming less and less awkward. It's clear to me he would prefer that we were going to bed together, but we both know it's not a good idea right now.

Talking and opening up with one another has gotten easier as well. He's much more willing than he's ever been to share with me the different things he has going on at work. In return, he's been asking me what my plans are now that I'm home. He hasn't really explained what he means by that question, but I think he's trying to ask whether I want to go back to work or not. I haven't really thought about it yet to be honest. Given my most recent experience in the world of publishing, I'm not sure I'm ready to just jump right back into it yet. True, it would be different if I were to return to Grey Publishing. I'd be the one calling the shots. Regardless of how I left England and why, I know I'm stronger this time around. I'm not the same meek girl I was even when I became the supposed CEO of Grey Publishing. Then I was still learning from Christian, uncertain which decisions I could make without taking down the entirety of Grey Enterprises. I made mistakes, but never really got the chance to learn from them and apply that learning to future situations.

I want to keep the independence I managed to gain while in London. I need a life outside my home, outside my husband and son. That's one of the reasons things went so wrong between Christian and me: they were the center of my universe, even when I was so angry with Christian that I could barely see straight. I need to keep my sense of self.

A knock on the bathroom door startles me and I yelp as the curling iron I'm using hits my neck. "Ana!" I hear the tone of panic in Christian's voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I set aside the curling iron and glance briefly at the burn on my neck, wincing at how it's already bright red. Resigned to Christian's freaking out over the self-injury, I open the bathroom door, finding him in a pose that suggests he was preparing to break down the door. I smirk at him. "Really?"

He relaxes when he sees I'm on my own two feet. "I didn't know..." His eyes widen as he sees the burn. "Jesus, Ana."

"Christian, it's fine," I insist, gently batting away his hand as it goes to my neck. "It's not the first time and it won't be the last. Relax."

He scowls briefly, then smoothes away the reaction, replacing it with a smile. "Sorry," he mutters. "I didn't mean to interrupt you getting ready. I just wanted to let you know I was home."

I try to hide my smile; his eyes narrow at my attempts and I know he isn't fooled, that he knows I'm laughing at him. "That much was evident," I tease. "You're home earlier than I expected."

Nodding, he runs a hand through his hair. "I wanted to see you before you left for dinner. There's something we have to talk about, but it can wait until you get back if you prefer."

Instantly I'm on guard, all my former amusement fading away. "What is it?" I ask reluctantly.

He matches my reluctance. "Lucy," he bites out warily. I raise an eyebrow to get him to go on, uncertain whether I want to know at all. He sighs. "She's going to trial next week for the kidnapping. My legal team is handling it best they can, but they've advised me that I should go."

My eyes widen, though I'm not sure why; I knew this was a possibility from the beginning. "Are you?" I ask quietly.

"No," he answers softly. "Not unless you want me to. The lawyers have our statements and while normally it would only serve to benefit us, it's not a necessity for us to be present."

 _Which means he's probably paying several lawyers frightening amounts of money to ensure it's not a necessity,_ my mind clarifies. "Okay," I respond.

He eyes me speculatively. "Okay?" he repeats cautiously. "What does that mean?"

"It means I trust you to let your legal team handle the situation," I clarify. "I can't be in the same room with her again, Christian. Call me cowardly if you want, but I can't face it."

His brow furrows. "Ana, that's not cowardly," he insists, making a move like he's about to pull me into his arms. He refrains. "I feel the same way. We'll have details of everything that's said, and we'll have this taken care of."

I nod, feeling less playful than before. "I should finish getting ready," I tell him quietly, not meeting his eyes. "I'm supposed to meet your mother in a couple hours." He looks miserable right now and I don't know why. "I'll find you when I'm done."

Nodding, he gives me a tight smile. "I'll be downstairs with Teddy," he mutters before turning and walking away.

Well, this is a great way to start off the evening.

As I dress, it occurs to me we haven't talked about Lucy since our session with Flynn. For Christian to be forced to talk to me about her for any reason is probably terrifying for him. None of our conversations about Lucy have been casual and they always end with both of us upset and me not wanting to speak with him for several hours. It's also one of the first times he's told me about something he knows would upset me without me having to pry it out of him. The old Christian would have kept it to himself rather than sharing for the sake of keeping me safe or for my happiness. He's fighting against everything he knows in order to improve our relationship.

Sighing, I head downstairs to the family room where Christian and Teddy playing quietly on the floor together. I stop for a minute and just watch them, struck by the look of bliss on my husband's face. He's trying to make up for the six months he lost with Teddy. I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing just how much Christian loves his son. If nothing else, I know Christian will do everything in his power to keep them from being separated again. Not that I would put either of them through that again.

Clearing my throat, I enter the room and Christian looks up, a slow smile growing on his face. "You look wonderful," he tells me softly.

I smile back, my face heating up bashfully. How is it after all the time we've known each other and all the times he's made me blush, I can't seem to rid myself of the reaction? "Thank you," I respond, walking around the couch to sit.

Christian joins me a minute later. "So," he says in a drawn out breath, "dinner with my mother."

My eyebrows rise in amusement. "You make it sound like I'm walking into the fiery depths of hell," I tell him quietly.

He snorts a laugh. "That would only be the case if I was joining the two of you," he says wryly. "Are you going to tell her everything?"

I shrug, averting my gaze to watch Teddy. "Haven't decided," I answer. "Would you prefer I didn't?"

"Well, yes," he says bluntly. "But after everything I've put you through, you deserve the opportunity to talk about it with whomever you wish, including my mother."

I nod. "I don't plan on telling her about Elena, if that's what you're worried about." I see him relax significantly. "I think it would be better coming from you, anyway."

He looks at me, panicked. "What?" he whispers hoarsely.

I shrug unapologetically. "I think she needs to know, Christian," I insist. "If she finds out some other way, it's going to be worse and you know it. I'm not saying you have to do it today, but it needs to happen."

Christian stares at me, torn, running his hands through his hair. "Okay," he sighs. "I'll talk to her." I smile gratefully at the lack of argument. "So are you driving yourself?"

He asks the question tentatively as though he's not sure he's allowed to ask. "I thought I would," I answer. "I only plan on going to the restaurant and home, and since Taylor is away, I don't want to take Sawyer..."

His jaw tenses and I'm pretty sure he's biting his tongue against the demand that I take security with me. I think part of me is using this as some sort of test to see whether Christian is truly willing to give me some independence. I wait quietly and patiently while he battles his instincts internally. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, finally looking at me again. "Okay," he agrees quietly. "Just please be careful."

I smile. "I will," I promise. Glancing at the clock, I stand. "I should get going. I don't know how late I'll be, but it'll probably after Teddy's bedtime. Can you make sure he gets his bath?"

He smirks, his eyes dancing in amusement. "I think I can manage giving a four-year-old a bath, Anastasia," he says arrogantly.

I only raise an eyebrow in response. After kissing Teddy goodnight, then the brief uncertain staring contest with Christian, during which be both silently debated whether it was okay to kiss the way we used to when one of us left the house—we seemed to have decided against it—I'm out the door, and almost giddily getting into the Audi R8 I haven't driven in months. God, I missed this car... As soon as I'm out on the open road, I accelerate, grinning like an idiot as I speed towards the restaurant.

Before I know it, I'm handing my keys over to a valet who's looking between me and the car appreciatively. I ignore the reaction, enter the building, and am immediately led towards the back where I see Grace already sitting at a table, waiting. When she sees me, she beams and stands.

"Ana!" Her happiness to see me is a little surprising, considering I only saw her a few weeks ago, but I eagerly return the hug she gives me before we sit down. "Welcome home, dear," she says kindly.

I smile. "Thank you, Grace." While we wait for the waiter to come take our orders, we exchange small talk about nothing in particular, and I know my mother-in-law is just waiting for the moment we can discuss the real reason for our dinner meeting.

The moment arrives sooner than I wanted. "Ana, I cannot tell you how sorry I am," Grace says to me with a rather tortured expression. I'm not sure how to respond, so I let her go on. "When you left, we were all upset. Seeing Christian the way he was, was nearly unbearable, especially since he wouldn't tell us why it was you'd left in the first place. All he would say was that the two of you had a serious disagreement over something and that he deserved to lose you. The rest of us came up with our own reasons why you left, and it did occur to us that Christian might have had an affair, but we never considered it would have come to this."

My brow furrows. "Are you saying I was wrong to leave Christian because he had an affair?" I ask slowly.

Grace's eyes widened. "No, Ana, of course not," she said hastily. "I would have done the same. What I mean is that you and Christian always seemed so absolutely perfect and enviably in love that I didn't think he could do something like this to you."

"That makes two of us," I mutter.

She smiles sympathetically. "Without knowing the real reason why you left, despite our suspicions, my motherly instincts kicked in and I spent weeks at my son's side, trying to comfort him. I was angry with you for reducing him to the state he was in. You're a mother, Ana, and I know you know what it's like to want to see your child happy. You would do anything to end his suffering, no matter the cause. When I asked Mia to invite you to our end of summer party when she picked up Teddy, I did it on Kate's and Mia's insistence. I wasn't sure I could handle having you around after seeing how torn up Christian had been. I asked him first, before I committed to the invite, and for the first time months, I saw the light in his eyes again." She swallowed hard. "Just mentioning your name changed everything for him. I still had no idea why the two of you separated or why you felt the need to leave the country with Teddy, but I didn't want to give up seeing Christian finally getting back to himself."

I knew all along this was what was happening while I was in London. Of course Christian's family would place most of the blame on me; I'm the one who left in the first place, taking away everything he loved most in life: his wife and son. I don't know whether Christian was aware that his family was so angry with me because he hadn't told them the truth, and I can't help but think about how selfish it was of him to seek comfort when he was the one in the wrong.

 _Typical Christian..._

By the time dinner arrived, we'd fallen into an awkward silence and I was regretting agreeing to this outing. I don't know why I'm upset about Grace choosing her son's side over his absent wife who by all counts fled the country with their son for no reason. If it were Teddy in the situation, I'd be on his side without question, no matter how much I liked the wife.

"Ana, I don't want you to think you don't have my support," Grace says quietly. "You do, especially now I know the truth. I love my son very much, more than my own life, but for him to throw away the best thing to ever happen to him..." She shakes her head in what seems like frustration. "When I first met you, Ana, I thought you were some miracle sent from the heavens. The way Christian looked at you, smiled, just seemed more relaxed... He was a completely different Christian and I wanted that to last as long as possible. As wonderful as you were, we feared Christian would mess it up somehow—as far as we knew, you were his first girlfriend." I can't help the smirk that crosses my face; Grace rolls her eyes. "We weren't sure how long you would be around. The night of the Charlie Tango accident, which is still one of the worst nights of my life..." I nod my agreement, "when he finally walked through the door, his eyes were on you, and he saw nobody else, Ana. I don't know if you noticed that night."

Oh, I noticed...

"And the very next night, he was telling me you were engaged." She smiles at me. "You made him so happy, Ana, and I know he did the same for you."

"He did," I agreed. "And I couldn't tell you when it started going south, but when it did, that was all gone."

"But you're working through that?" Grace asked curiously, hopefully.

I sigh. "We're trying," I tell her. "He's being more honest with me now than he's been in a very long time, and as long as he keeps that up, I think we'll be okay." I sigh heavily. Having let her get what she needed to say out, it's my turn. "Grace, I know I could have handled this better, but at the time, I truly didn't see any other option. As it was, I thought Christian was going to follow me, no matter where I went. I'm sorry for taking your grandson away from you; I can only imagine how badly that must have hurt you without having any real explanation for me."

Grace is shaking her head. "You've nothing to apologize for," she said quietly but firmly. "You did what you thought best for you and your son. If it had been me in your shoes, I can't say I'd handle it any differently. Hell, I'm impressed you handled it as well as you did. I love my children, Ana, and there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for their happiness, but my youngest son can be so thick sometimes. I've always known he'd have incredible potential for success if he applied himself to something positive rather than getting into trouble. I am nothing but proud of everything he's achieved with his business. But when it comes to matters of the heart, I think it's something he's never been able to wrap his head around. I know what he thinks, or what he used to think—that he's incapable of loving and unworthy of being loved. All throughout his childhood, he was distant with Carrick and me. Carrick, especially. We loved him as best we could and as much as he would allow us. We respected his phobia of being touched, knowing it was stemmed from his early abuse. But we were never really able to get through to him. And then Elena..." Grace's voice hardens and she's filled with an anger I recognize immediately: it's the anger of a mother who tried and failed to protect her child. I have the same feelings with Teddy in regards to Lucy. "She took advantage of my baby, taught him all the wrong things about love and sex, and I believe it's because of her Christian was able to have this affair of his without any regard to you or your feelings."

My eyes widen at her words, though probably not for the reasons she believes. She has no idea how right she is...

"I'm certainly not condoning what Christian did and I'm not attempting to make excuses for him. I can only hope that he will somehow prove himself to you and you'll be able to take him back. He's my son, but you're my daughter, Ana. We've missed you and Teddy more than you know, and I am so sorry that you've had to go all this time without some sort of support. Did nobody know the truth?"

I shake my head. "No," I answer softly. "I didn't know how to tell anybody without Christian losing the rest of his family. I guess that was more important to me than telling all of you the truth."

Grace sighs, smiling wryly. "Neither of you ever changes," she says with a quiet chuckle. I raise my eyebrows in question. "Throughout all of this and all the hurt and blame that was going around, your instincts told you to protect each other." I want to ask her what she means, how Christian was "protecting me," but I don't ask. That could mean anything—sending over a security team to keep an eye on Teddy and me; making sure I was safe financially by depositing money in my account at every opportunity. "Now, about this Lucy woman... Where is she?"

My body tenses at the mere mention of her name. "London," I answer shortly. "Awaiting trial."

Grace nods slowly. "Well, with any luck, she'll rot there," she says darkly.

I silently agree. We finish our meals with less tense conversation, share a large slice of chocolate cake, and sip at what's left in our wine glasses. Neither of us has had enough to impair our driving, which surprises me; I thought the conversation topic would have been enough to warrant me drinking an entire bottle on my own... Then again, I don't need reason to put myself into a situation where my safety is being compromised. At this point, the last thing Christian and I need to be doing is fighting, especially over something so obviously boneheaded like driving while intoxicated. Of course, knowing him, I could look outside the restaurant and find at least one member of his security team keeping an eye on things...

When the check arrives, there's a brief argument over who is going to pay. It's only then I learn where Christian gets his patented _don't mess with me_ look. I thank Grace and all but demand we go out again soon, and it would be on me. Or actually on Christian, since my income level has recently become non-existent...

We say goodbye outside the restaurant as the valets pull our cars around and I promise to make time for Christian, Teddy, and me to come to dinner in Bellevue within the next week or so before getting into my car to return home.

I smile a little at how easy it is for me to think of the house on the Sound as home again; I haven't thought that in months. It is, though. Christian and I may be on the very hairy edge of relationship destruction, but my brain (and my heart) still considers wherever he is to be home. I suppose this is a good sign for us.

Or maybe I'm just setting myself up for more heartbreak...

With a sad sigh, my smile slips away from me. I try to focus on my dinner with Grace and how it had gone better than I thought it would. Hopefully my reunion with everyone else goes as smoothly.

* * *

Sitting in my study, I'm doing everything possible to occupy my mind until Ana finally returns from dinner with my mother. I'm a little surprised at how nervous I am about this. I know they're talking about what's gone on over the last year, and while I know Ana won't go into all the gory details with Grace, I can only imagine how deeply it's going to hurt her to hear about what I've done. I still remember with vivid clarity the night Grace found out about my affair with Elena. That confrontation had put a damper on what should have been the best night of my life—the night I formally proposed marriage to Ana.

Grace blamed herself for the affair, knowing it had gone on right under her nose. She'd been disappointed in me several times before that—every time I got into a fight at school, resulting in suspension or expulsion, depending on the severity; dropping out of Harvard without even discussing it with my parents; every time I blew off a family function with little or no notice because either I was in busy with work or with a submissive. But none of that even held a candle to the disappointment towards me over Elena. She didn't understand how I hadn't been able to see just how wrong that relationship had been. Of course, she didn't know just how sick and depraved Elena and I were with all the things we had done; if she did, she'd never speak to me again.

There are only two women in the world that have the ability to make me feel unabashedly ashamed of myself: Anastasia Grey and Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey. I hate more than anything seeing either of them hurt or upset, but they are the two people I've hurt most in my life. It's because of me my mother has gone so long without seeing her grandson. It's because of me Ana's been reduced to a shell of her former self. I need to find a way to make this up to the both of them and to prove to them I will never let harm come to them again, especially not from me.

 _Don't make promises you can't keep, Grey_ , my mind tells me sternly. _You promised both of them over and over you'd never see Elena again. You broke that promise. You promised Ana you'd always be faithful to her, to be at her side through good and bad. You broke that promise, too._

I sit back in my chair and fist my hands in my hair. I think I've come up with a way to show Ana just how much effort I'm putting into changing. I don't know whether she'll accept it or not, but she deserves the choice. This might even go a long way in regaining her trust.

I hear the front door open up and my heart rate accelerates, a smile growing on my face. Ana's home. Abandoning my work, I quickly make my way through the house, finding her down in the foyer removing her jacket and shoes. "Hi," I say quietly, trying not to startle her.

She looks up in surprise then smiles herself. "Hi," she says, matching my volume. "How was your evening?"

"Good," I tell her, nodding. "Teddy took his bath, we played for a while, then I read him a story, and he was out like a light." This isn't quite true; Teddy's been a little cranky all evening and threw a tantrum over taking his bath without his mother present, then refused to let me read him his story. Eventually, I just left him to his sulking; he'll be fine in the morning. "How was yours?"

She sighs, giving me a faint smile.

"That good, huh?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Could have been worse," she says evasively. "Suffice to say, you'll probably want to start kissing some serious ass if you want to get back into your mother's good books."

I roll my eyes but nod. "Figured as much," I mutter, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of wine? There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Immediately she's suspicious. "It's not about Lucy, is it?" she asks reluctantly, bracing herself.

"No," I assure her. "Not in the slightest."

Still suspicious of my motives, Ana follows me into the kitchen where I go about pouring wine for us and working out how I'm going to bring up the topic of discussion that's on my mind without it starting any sort of argument. That definitely isn't my intention, but it's a topic that's caused strife between us in the past and I fear old habits die hard in this instance.

I sit beside her, handing her a glass and just look at her for a minute. She really is beautiful. It doesn't hurt that the dress she's wearing shows off her perfect, sexy curves. I remember how perfectly my hands fit at her hips, the way she arches her back when I touch her in the way she loves. This of course leads to recalling the sounds she makes and knowing I'm the only man who's ever heard them. I try to furtively adjust my suddenly tight pants. When I check to see whether she's noticed, I find her looking into her wine glass broodingly.

"So I don't know if you've thought about it at all," I begin quietly, drawing her attention, "but I was thinking about what you might want to do about employment. Not that you have to work, of course, if you don't want to. I just know how much you enjoy working and I want to be as supportive as I can this time..."

Her eyes widen in surprise at my words. "Oh," she says, her voice a lilting a touch. "Um, no, not really. I assume Grey Publishing is still around."

"Yes," I confirm with a nod, relieved at her response. "And if that's the route you want to take, I can get started on getting everything arranged. The company is still in your name, but I've had somebody running it for awhile now."

 _Yeah, let's remind her of the fact that you forced her out of a job she loved only to replace her with a competent yet pretentious jackass who's been trying to worm his way into the job permanently. Fucker's lucky I haven't fired him yet._

"So I would be thrown right back into the CEO position?" she checks.

My brow furrows. "Well, yes," I say as though it's obvious. I kind of thought it was. "It's your job if you want it..."

Anger flashes briefly through her eyes. She wanted it before, but I didn't let her keep it. And here I am offering it to her again on a silver platter. "And if I don't?" she asks.

"Then you don't have to do it," I assure her quickly. "If you still want to do the publishing thing in a lower key position, just say the word and I'll make it happen." I pause. "Or you could always come work for GEH..."

She snorts a laugh. "Yeah, that won't be happening," she mutters sardonically, sipping at her wine. It's a minute or so before she speaks again. "Not to start an argument, but this is one of the things that bothered me so much before I left." My brow furrows in confusion. "The fact that you just offhandedly say things like you'll arrange it or take care of it, like I'm not capable of doing it for myself."

I sigh and close my eyes, trying to push back the reflexive argument in my head. "That's not what I meant," I tell her gently. "I just want to make sure you've got everything you want or that you're looking for. If you don't want me to interfere, I understand and I'll back off. If you want to go a different direction than GP or GEH, I support you one hundred percent. You are fully capable of doing things for yourself, Ana, but I'm here if you need me."

Her thoughts are practically screaming out "it's about fucking time, Grey!" but she manages to hide it well. "I appreciate that," she says sincerely. "Like I said, I haven't really thought it through yet, but I will let you know when I do."

I smile, wondering why we didn't use this communication thing sooner.

 _You know why_ , my mind snarls at me. _You want to control everything around you to the point she didn't get the chance to share her opinion. And let's be honest, here, Grey: the real reason you wanted her home rather than working full time was because at home you could be sure she was safe and not under the lustful gaze of every horny motherfucker who surrounded her. If she wasn't at work, she wasn't being pulled away from you._

 _Yeah, cause that worked out brilliantly..._ I counter, inwardly rolling my eyes. _She left anyway, only proving I was wrong in my decision about her job._

I ask her about dinner with my mother to get my thoughts off all the ways I've hurt her over the years.

"It went about like I thought it would," she says flatly with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We didn't get into any real details and the only mention of Lucy was when Grace asked where she is and expressed her wish that Lucy rot in London."

My eyebrows dart up in surprise. Grace isn't normally a woman to wish ill on others, but I know when it comes to her family, all that goes out the window. "I'm glad you were able to get out for an evening."

"Me, too," she says genuinely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, biting her lip. I have to fight the urge not to groan and throw her on the counter right this second. "Incidentally, have you decided when our date might be?"

A smile begins to slowly grow across my face. "Perhaps," I say teasingly, narrowing my eyes at her. "You know, if I didn't know any better, Anastasia, I'd say you were looking forward to this date."

She smirks. ""Well, it's a good thing you know better, isn't it, Christian?" she retorts flippantly.

I raise an eyebrow, trying and failing to get the stupid grin off my face. "You and that smart mouth..." I say before draining my wine glass. I look over to find her mouth has dropped open slightly and that she's blushing. Smirking to myself, I take my glass over to the sink, rinse it, and leave it to be washed, deciding to end the night on a good note. "You've have a long day, Mrs. Grey," I tell her quietly. "Perhaps you should get some sleep." I start out of the kitchen, knowing she's staring at me incredulously. "I'll check my schedule and get back to you on that date." I call the words over my shoulder, feeling my smile widen when I hear her surprised laugh.

All things considered, I think we're doing pretty damn well right now. I only hope it lasts this time.


	22. Chapter 22

Life is good.

I've been thinking this phrase over and over for nearly a week now, and I never really tire of it. There isn't an aspect of my life that I would change at the moment. Several mergers and acquisitions have peacefully fallen into place when I'd believed I would have to make several business trips all across the world to make them work. My wife and son are home with me again. Ana and I are spending time together without awkward silences or tension. And the drama that seems to surround me wherever I go has taken a leave of absence for the time being.

Okay, there is _one_ thing I would change about my life: I want things between Anastasia and me to be right again, for us to be the madly in love couple we were so long ago that it seems like another life entirely.

We've had two more sessions with Flynn since Ana's dinner with my mother last Thursday. During both of them, we've managed to share things we've never shared before: hopes, dreams, fears, regrets. We managed to open up to each other in ways I didn't even know were possible. We left Flynn's office feeling free and empowered. I can't speak for Anastasia, of course, but I feel more connected with her than ever. It's always been true that she knows me better than anybody else in the world; now, though, I don't have that niggling thought at the back of my mind that there's still something I'm not telling her and whatever that is would be the death of our relationship. She knows the worst of me. She's experienced it over the last year and for some reason she is still willing to stick by me.

Tomorrow night is the night I've been looking forward to for weeks. It's the night of our date. The first date of our new beginning. For the most part, I've got it all planned. I think Ana will enjoy it. Or at least I hope so. I want this to be a new chapter for us. I certainly don't expect her to forget what's happened between us—what I've done to us—but I want us to be able to eventually move on from it. I want this to make us stronger as a couple and I want to prove to her I understand what I've done, how I've betrayed her, and show that I will die before ever hurting her like this again.

In the meantime, I'm spending most of my evenings with my wife and son, despite the invisible barrier between myself and Ana. Possibly the most difficult part of this entire thing is how I'm not allowed to really touch her. Not in the way I really want, anyway. The few times we've held hands or grazed each other's skin or kissed far too briefly for my liking have proved that at least on my end of things, the spark is still there between us. I still feel that pull towards her, even after fearing my having an affair had broken something irreparable. Though we haven't discussed it, I think she feels the same. She is very understandably hesitant to actually do anything about it and until she's ready, I'll wait.

 _Even if she's never ready?_

That's a horrifying thought. If it comes to pass that she doesn't want me in that way again, I'll have no choice but to accept it. I've spent so long being a selfish, heartless bastard, thinking she'd be mine forever that I'd almost forgotten what it was like to not have her in my life. I know now with absolute certainty that there truly is nobody else who can measure up to her. The haze of having been with Lucy had me convinced there was a possible future between us. Looking back, I want to beat myself for that thought; Lucy was a lot of things, but she wasn't Ana. To think that I could have replaced my wife with some cheap knock-off... How is it even possible that she's still willing to give me the time of day?

I shake myself from my thoughts in order to concentrate on my work. By lunchtime, this seems like an impossible feat and I give up, deciding instead to end my day early as the overwhelming need to see my wife and son washes over me. I place a call to Ros, reminding her about tomorrow's negotiations with a Japanese company we're hoping to acquire, then one to Taylor to have him pull the car around, and head out, informing Andrea on my way to the elevator that I'm gone for the day and to defer to Ros with any business related issues.

On the way home, I make a few last minute arrangements for tomorrow night. This has to be perfect. Ana deserves perfection. She deserves _more_ than perfection, and I want to be the one to give it to her. I want to _deserve_ to be the one to give it to her.

 _You've got a long way to go, Grey..._

We pull up in front of the house and I dismiss Taylor for the day, intending to spend the rest of mine with my wife and son. Inside, the house is dark and quiet, and for a moment I feel panic grip at my heart. This is what it had looked and felt like the night I came home to find my family had left me. I have a brief desire to start shouting out for them, but manage to calm myself enough to realize there's a murmuring of voices in the family room. It takes all my control not to sprint across the house. My knees nearly buckle with relief when I find Ana and Teddy curled up together on the couch taking a nap as they watched cartoons. There truly is no more beautiful a sight than this and I'm smiling as I retrieve a blanket to cover them.

I'm just about to leave them to their rest when I hear Ana.

"Christian?" she whispers uncertainly.

I turn around to find her blinking her eyes open in confusion, then looking down at her chest where Teddy is resting. "Hi," I whisper back, moving to lean against the back of the couch to better speak with her.

"You're home early," she murmurs.

I smile. "Couldn't concentrate at work," I explain quietly. "Thought I'd come home and see what you two were up to."

She gives me a sleepy smile that all at once melts my heart and turns me on. "He didn't want to take a nap," she explains quietly, looking fondly at our son. "So I told him I was going to lie down and put some cartoons on, and he could skip the nap as long as he stayed in here with me. Apparently he changed his mind."

"Hmm," I murmur, feeling a pang of jealousy for my son's sleeping position. "Apparently. How was your day?"

"Good," she responds, smiling. "Kate called."

My eyebrows rise. "Oh? How'd that go?"

She winces. "She's not pleased with you," she tells me reluctantly.

"Most people aren't," I remind her wryly.

"Well, Kate's taking it to a whole new level. Forget avoiding Grace; avoid Kate."

I chuckle weakly. Great, yet another person who wants to dismantle me for hurting Ana. Not that this is news; I've known all along that when Kate discovered what happened between me and Anastasia there would be hell to pay. "I'll keep that in mind. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to pull that one off, considering my father called me today and all but demanded we join them for dinner on Sunday."

Ana's eyes widen. "Oh," she says, clearly surprised. "Kate didn't say anything... We did arrange to take the kids out Monday for a few hours."

She watches me closely for my reaction and I know she's waiting for me to start demanding details about this proposed outing. I'm fighting against all my instincts to do just that; I have to trust that my wife can handle herself and keep our son safe. I don't need to be involved in every aspect of her life.

My own eyes widen at the realization that I actually mean that. Then I realize Ana's looking at me as though I've lost my mind. "Well, I'm sure you and Kate have quite a bit of catching up to do..."

She nods her agreement, yawning.

I smile indulgently. "Finish your nap, baby," I say softly, leaning over the couch to place a kiss on her forehead. "I've got a bit to do upstairs, but when I'm done, I'll wake you and we can have dinner."

Her eyes are already closing and I somehow manage to pull away from my family, determined not to spend too long working. Kate and Ana aren't the only ones who have catching up to do; I've got months of catching up to do with my family and I don't want to waste any more time than I already have.

* * *

I can't remember the last time I was this excited and nervous about anything. Christian's been locked in heavy negotiations all day, so the only communication I've had with him has been a few text messages he's been able to send sporadically. All I know is that he's asked me to dress warm and in semi-formal attire. I have no idea what he has up his sleeve for this date; whenever I ask he just gives me that slow, boyish, panty-busting smile of his. Though that smile hasn't worked on me in the last several months in the way he's hoped, I think my body is beginning to thaw from its seven-month hibernation and I don't think it'll be long before I'm fighting against my reactions. I can't allow myself to blindly fall under his charms this time around. I have to go in with both eyes wide open. We have to do this together.

Of course, there's one part of me that's desperate for Christian's attention and sexpertise, and would give anything in the world to just give in and fuck him for days on end.

Shaking myself from that thought, knowing I'll never get anything done with those images in my head, I continue to get ready for our date this evening. Our first date, he keeps calling it. At first, I thought he was just being silly calling it that—we'd been on dates throughout the early days of our relationship. Then I recalled the exact nature of these "dates" we had: most of them involved negotiations between the two of us about my decision to become his submissive. He spent those times trying to sell me on the lifestyle he so desperately wanted me to be part of. I was a business deal for him. One he couldn't seem to give up, yes, but a business deal nonetheless.

 _He changed, though,_ my mind reminds me. _Little by little, he changed in order to keep you in his life. Meeting his mother, then the rest of his family. Being seen with him in public photos. The gliding. Georgia. More..._

I'm again reminded of what drastic changes he underwent when I left him after the playroom/belt incident. I told him I loved him and he panicked, telling me I couldn't. We'd arrived at an impasse that day. Despite his begging, I'd remained strong and he'd allowed me to leave Escala. We'd both spent five miserable days apart until he convinced me to allow him to escort me to José's art show. That had thrown us right back together and it was a whirlwind.

I still don't understand why it is that he only realizes what it is he's lost when it's gone. I want to believe this time will be it. That he's finally comprehended what it means to lose me for good. More than anything, I want him to put everything he has into our marriage. In return, I have to do the same. I want my marriage. I don't want to give it up without a fight. And I think he's finally made the decision that he wants the same. I'm not doing this blindly anymore. As much as I'd like for us to just get on with it and go back to normal, I know I'll be suspicious of everything he says and does for the foreseeable. I can't allow myself to get hurt again. It will destroy me.

But if we make this work, it has to be for the right reasons. We can't just say we'll make it work because our son's happiness is at stake. I won't put my son through that.

With a sigh, I look up into the mirror, finding I need to reapply some of my makeup due to the tear streaks I didn't realize had made an appearance. I push back my thoughts enough to finish getting ready, styling my hair, and get into the little black dress I've chosen for the evening. At first I feel a little self-conscious wearing it; the fabric is thin, hugging every curve I have, the bottom hem just reaching the middle of my thighs while the neckline dips, giving off a generous view of cleavage. I'm aware this is the sort of dress I've worn all throughout our marriage for various occasions, but it's been so long since I've worn something like it.

As I'm slipping on my black heels, there's a tiny knock on my door. I smile, knowing immediately exactly what's going on. I open the door to find Teddy grinning toothily up at me. "Hi, Mommy," he says happily.

"Hi, baby boy," I respond, his mood pushing away all other feelings. "What're you doing?"

"Daddy told me to come get you," he answers. "You look pretty."

I beam at him. "Thank you," I say, reaching back into the room for a jacket and my clutch. "Lead the way."

Teddy takes my hand and pulls me through the hallway, then down the stairs. The butterflies are back as we reach the foyer to find Christian leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, talking quietly with Taylor. I don't know when he changed out of his normal work attire and apparently showered, judging by his still damp hair, but instead of the usual business suit he wears, he's wearing freshly pressed suit pants, jacket, black dress shirt, and... I swear my heart stops. The Tie. I don't know how long it's been since I've seen That Tie, but it feels like a lifetime. He wore it often during the early days of our marriage. One day I happened to see it hanging in the back of his closet and realized he hadn't worn it for months. Like everything else I noticed during the dark ages of our marriage, I kept the thought to myself.

Taylor sees us first and I think I see traces of a smile on his face. It's only a second before Christian straightens up and turns to look at me. I swear I see and hear the sharp intake of breath he takes as his eyes glaze over. I manage a smile as I step off the last stair and approach him. Our eyes are locked and a slow smile starts to grow on his lips.

"Hi," I say quietly, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent of body wash and Christian.

"Hi yourself," he says huskily, leaning in to press his lips against my cheek. He lingers a little longer than necessary and when he pulls away, I swear he groans. Or maybe that was me. I can't be sure. "You look..." He shakes his head slightly, pulling away from me as he looks me up and down. "I don't think astonishing or breathtaking quite cover it, but I think my brain's shut down, leaving me unable to come up with an appropriate word."

I giggle at him, which only widens his smile. "Thank you," I say shyly, blushing.

"Shall we?" he asks, holding his hand out for me. I nod.

We say goodnight to our son, telling him to behave for Gail, and we'll see him in the morning. Taylor opens the door for us to leave the house and we head down the steps towards the SUV. Christian opens the back door for me, still holding my hand as I slide in, and he joins me a second later, still looking at me with that smile. With Taylor in the driver's seat, we're off to wherever it is we're going. Christian and I talk about nothing in particular and I see he's as excited and nervous about the evening as I am. For some reason, that helps relax me.

I'm trying to gain my bearings and guess what we're about to do, but Christian keeps distracting me with conversation—I think he's doing it on purpose. We pull into what seems to be an airfield and I feel my excitement growing as I realize our first destination.

"Charlie Tango?" I look at Christian to find him grinning at my reaction.

"Charlie Tango," he confirms quietly, lifting my hand to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles. "Come."

We exit the car, Christian and Taylor exchange a few words, and then we're on our way to the helicopter. Christian has his arm around my shoulders as we bend down on our approach. He pulls open the door again, helping me into my seat, and buckling my harness for me.

"I do love this harness," he tells me with a smirk as he adjusts the straps. I giggle and grin at his words. "But I think I love that sound more."

I don't get the chance to respond as he climbs in and crosses to the pilot's seat. He immediately buckles his own harness then starts with the pre-flight checks. While he's doing that, I revel in his first surprise. We haven't been in Charlie Tango together in probably a year and a half. There was a time when I refused to go anywhere near Christian's beloved helicopter, after he nearly died flying it, but he somehow managed to set my concerns to rest, promising me he would never allow me anywhere near it if he didn't believe it safe.

Before I know it, we're up in the air, heading south. Christian gestures for me to put on the headphones so we can talk. For a while, we're silent, intent on taking in the setting sun around Seattle. I smile at the sight and the memories it brings with it.

"What are you thinking about?" Christian's disembodied voice is in my head.

I glance over at him, finding him intently watching the open sky ahead of us, though his eyes dart over to me every few seconds or so. "The first time you brought me up in Charlie Tango," I answer honestly.

His smile grows slowly and he nods in recollection. "That was a great night," he tells me quietly.

"One of the best nights of my life," I hear myself saying.

He looks over at me, startled. I see him swallow hard. "Mine, too," he says simply.

We fly in silence for quite a while before I realize we've begun our descent. Christian is communicating with air traffic control and I know immediately where we are and what we're doing here.

 _Well, he did say this is a new beginning..._ I reason with myself. Touching down, I remove the headphones, waiting for Christian to turn off the helicopter. After unbuckling me from my harness, his arm is around me again as we head for the door at the top of this building where the helipad is located.

Out on the street, I expect to see another SUV waiting for us, but Christian clearly has something else planned. "It's just us," he explains quietly as we begin walking. "I didn't think it would benefit a first date if we're being chaperoned. I've got a team tending to Charlie Tango, but the security detail is still in Seattle."

I nod thoughtfully. Taylor and the others seemed to come as a package deal when it came to being with Christian. The only time they didn't accompany us somewhere was when we were remaining in the Seattle area, but even then I knew they were somewhere nearby in case something happened and we needed help. This thought makes me feel open and slightly vulnerable; the threats against Christian and our family are very clear, especially given recent events with Lucy. I feel myself glancing all around us, wondering if there was an unknown threat waiting for us in the shadows of an alley. Whether Christian notices or just wants me nearer, I don't know as he pulls me closer.

I'm not surprised to find us approaching the Heathman Hotel in Portland, but it does make me wonder about his intentions. The first time I was brought here, I ended up spending the night with him. Granted, I was unconscious the entire night. I look up at him, unconsciously biting my lower lip. He gives me a soft smile before reaching up with his free hand to release the grip my teeth have on my flesh. "We're here for dinner, Ana," he assures me softly. "That's it."

For some reason, part of me is disappointed by his words, especially when we enter the hotel and pass the elevator. _Our_ elevator. I know the same thoughts are going through Christian's mind; he smirks at me. "I do love elevators, Mrs. Grey," he tells me, his eyes dancing in amusement and something else I can't quite put a finger on.

Inside the restaurant, we're led, predictably, to a private dining room with one table made up simply. One candle glows in the center of the white tablecloth. Christian pulls my chair out for me after the host takes my jacket and clutch, then moves around the table to sit across from me. I notice immediately there aren't any menus. "Am I to assume you've planned out our dinner already?"

He grins at me in response as a waiter pours us glasses of wine and informs us our first course will arrive shortly. While we wait, sipping at our wine, the conversation flows easily. We're laughing, teasing, flirting. There's no sign of the usual in-control Christian. Instead, he's replaced by his playful, happy alter ego.

When the oysters arrive, I raise an eyebrow at my husband, who grins again. He moves his chair around the table to sit closer to me so we can feed each other the appetizer. He cracks a joke as I swallow one, causing me to choke slightly and dribble juice down my chin. Rather than letting me have the chance to be embarrassed, he reaches over to gently wipe away the juice with a finger. I gasp softly when he immediately places the finger in his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.

Our main course of black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with hollandaise sauce arrives. Unlike the very first time we had this meal, I'm actually hungry; my appetite hasn't been chased away by discussions of punishments and obedience and sexual acts I've never heard of, let alone participated in. Christian is watching me closely as though he's reading my thoughts, remembering that night with what seems to be regret on his face.

"The first time we were here," he begins slowly before we start our dinner, "I wanted nothing more than to make you my submissive, to mold you into exactly what I needed you to be. I didn't understand the hold you had over me at the time, and it frustrated me to no end that I was making such an effort to get you when you clearly weren't submissive material. All I knew at the time was that I had to have you. I didn't know any other way to get you. There were moments when I saw you as a piece of property that I needed to own. The fact that you didn't turn tail and run the moment you found out what I wanted from you is something I will never forget and I cannot begin to apologize for thinking of you in that way. You gave me more than I ever thought possible and over the years; I've treated you atrociously. I promised to keep you safe and make you happy no matter the cost; I failed you, Anastasia. I can't change what I did to you; all I can do is swear that I will never do that to you again. I will never make you feel like that again. I will never let you go. And I will _never_ stop loving you."

I'm speechless. After the laughter and happiness of the evening, he's taken us back to the reality of our situation. I've never seen him look so sincere and contrite, and I know it's no use being suspicious of his words; I believe them immediately.

Taking a deep breath, he holds up his wine glass to toast. "To new beginnings," he whispers, staring into my eyes. We clink our glasses, drinking deeply, then start in on our meals.

As we eat, I begin to forget everything that's happened over the last year. It's hard not to when I look at my husband's happy, carefree, eager face. I haven't seen that expression in so long and I think I'll do anything to make it last. This is what I've wanted for years, to have him looking at me like I am his world again. Even when the conversation fades, I still feel him watching me with a smile on his face. Part of me wants to know what he's thinking; part of me doesn't.

After dinner, we're back out on the street. Christian's arm is wrapped around my shoulders protectively against the cold wind and I wonder what he's got planned next.

"Is there anything you'd like to do?" he asks as we stop at a crosswalk. His chin is resting on the top of my head while my arms are around his waist, my cheek resting against his chest.

I sigh contentedly. _Yes,_ I think, _this. For the rest of our lives._ Of course I don't say this aloud, mostly because I still don't know whether we'll be able to solve the problems between us. I glance across the street and smile. "Actually, yes," I tell him, looking up. He raises his eyebrows in question. "I think we should see a movie."

"A movie?" he asks in amusement, following my line of sight. "Baby, you do realize I can arrange for us to see any movie in the world without us resorting to cramped seating, stale popcorn, and sticky floors, right?"

I nod. "Yes, I do realize that," I confirm, grinning. "But the cramped seating, stale popcorn, and sticky floors are things normal people have to contend with on normal first dates."

He snorts a laugh, looking over my shoulder at the movie theater across the street. With a sigh, he nods. "You really want to see a movie tonight?" I nod eagerly; he grins slightly. "Okay, then." He grabs my hand and we make our way towards the box office. "Any idea what you want to see?"

His eyes are narrowed on the flashing board that lists the different movies and showtimes. There are a few family movies, some action, a horror movie, a few romances. We end up agreeing to see a new comedy movie that was just released last weekend—it is the only one Christian didn't curl his lip to when I suggested it. He buys our tickets and we enter, fully aware that our fancy attire doesn't exactly fit in with the other moviegoers, but neither of us is concerned as we get in line for the snack bar. Christian orders us a large drink, large popcorn, and some candy he saw me eyeing longingly, not even flinching at the outrageous prices the way a normal person would.

We settle near the back row of the theater, our drink in the holder between us, our popcorn on Christian's knee. Predictably, as the movie previews start, Christian arm goes around my shoulders. "So you have better access to the popcorn," he claims, smirking. I roll my eyes in the dark, but smile back. As the lights dim further, I can't think of a better way to spend an evening.

* * *

I cannot believe I'm in a movie theater. When I asked Ana what she might like to do after dinner, I thought she might suggest a walk around the city or maybe a cup of coffee or something. Definitely not this. I honestly can't remember the last time I was actually at a movie theater, though I think it might have been when I was on winter break at some point while I was at Harvard and Mia dragged both Elliot and me out.

The looks we got when we entered the theater were amusing. I can't imagine most people getting this dressed up to see a movie. We look as though we should be walking down a red carpet at a movie premiere, surrounded by movie stars, not by teenagers who don't know the meaning of quiet during a movie and couples who don't look like they could afford anything fancier. But the light in Ana's eyes when she suggested our next activity—whether it was because she really wanted to do this or she was making fun of me, I'm still not sure—overrode every instinct I had to deny her. I honestly didn't care at the moment what her motivation was for wanting to see a movie; I'm the one who gets to reap the rewards. I barely pay attention to what's on the screen, instead keeping my gaze on my wife's face as she focuses. I see every smile, eye crinkle, and laugh as they happen. This is the first time I've seen her this carefree and relaxed in years.

 _Like she was in José's photos..._

She's beautiful. More than beautiful. I have to get her back...

About halfway through the movie, Ana's laughing hysterically and I'm grinning like an idiot watching her. She turns towards me, reaching for the soda sitting between us, and catches me staring at her. Her eyes widen and she begins to blush. I know she knows what I've been up to throughout this movie. I shrug in mock-apology and she smiles at me briefly before turning back to the movie, and I know I'm not in trouble. After that, she pays less and less attention to what's on the screen as she darts her eyes between it and me.

Tempted as I am to suggest we sneak out early, I manage to stick out the entire movie, and finally we're leaving. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel her arm intertwining with mine. Looking down at her, she's looking up at me through her hair with big eyes. I beam at her, pulling her closer.

"I suppose we're going home now?" she asks quietly as we start back towards the Heathman.

I glance at my watch. "We've still got an hour and a half until our takeoff time. We could either head back to the helipad or get a coffee or something..."

She smiles at me and I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped. "Coffee's good," she muses. "Though I'm more of a tea fan myself."

My brow furrows for a moment. I've known this for years; why does she see the need to remind me? We walk a block or so before I register exactly where we are: just across the street is the Portland Coffee House and my stomach does a flip as I recall the last time she and I were here. The day of the photo shoot for the WSU student newspaper. _That_ was a good day. Twenty minutes sitting in a chair with nothing more to do than stare the beautiful, fascinating woman that was Anastasia Steele. I grin as we cross the street to enter the coffee house, looking down at Ana and letting go of her hand. "Why don't you choose a table while I get the drinks? What would you like?" I'm grinning like an idiot, rather surprised that I've recalled the conversation so quickly and easily.

She smiles brightly back at me. "English Breakfast tea, bag out," she replies, barely suppressing her amusement as she bites her lip.

"No coffee?" I ask, reaching out to pull her lip from her teeth.

"I'm not keen on coffee," she says immediately, just as she had that day.

I'm still grinning as we separate, Ana looking for a table, me getting in line for our beverages. Just like that day all those years ago, I have no idea what the hell she's doing with me. I'm not deserving of someone as wonderful as she and god knows she could find happiness with somebody better, somebody who wouldn't break her heart over and over again. At the same time, just like that day, I need her in my life. I didn't understand just how incredibly special she was that day or how drastically she could change my outlook on life. She beguiled me—she still does. She challenged me, frustrated me, and confused me. None of that has changed.

It's five minutes before I reach the front of the line and place my order. I turn around with the tray carrying our beverages and, of course, my blueberry muffin, and smirk to find Ana is sitting at the exact table we'd sat at that day, lost in her thoughts. There's only one way to handle this...

"Penny for your thoughts?" I set the tray on the table and take my seat. She startles and looks at me in surprise. I respond by passing her the teacup, pot of water, and saucer with teabag.

"Not worth it," she responds wryly.

My brow furrowed. Not exactly how I remember the conversation going... "Try me."

I watch as she dunks the teabag in the water for all of two-point-five seconds before taking it out and discarding it on the saucer. She sighs, smiling slightly. "I was just thinking that this has been a wonderful night," she says. "I knew you would come up with something special and you didn't let me down."

Grinning, I take a sip of my latte. "Does this mean I'll have to come up with something better for our second date?" I ask amusedly.

She raises her eyebrow. "Do you think you can?" she counters.

I snort a laugh. "I think I can arrange something," I tell her mysteriously, having already decided what I would like our next date to be.

We smile at each other as we drink our beverages. Ana leans over the table, giving me a very lovely view of her breasts, and takes a chunk of my muffin. I smirk at her as she leans back and it's a moment before she realizes it's not her pastry theft I'm smirking about. She blushes. Everywhere. I'm adjusting my pants again as she quickly searches for a topic to distract us.

Before I know it, we're headed back towards Charlie Tango, hand-in-hand. I've taken off my jacket to place around her shoulders when she started shivering through the thin material of her own. As we walk at a slower than necessary pace, it occurs to me that I'm not the only one reluctant to see our evening end.

Our flight back to Seattle is subdued and mostly silent with Ana having her head turned away from me as she looks out over the city. As soon as we land and I've cut the engine of the helicopter, I jump out the door, quickly walking around to Ana's to help her out. I smile a little as she stumbles into me slightly when her feet touch the ground. I love having her this close to me so I can see every emotion play out in her eyes. I don't want to let this go yet. I open my mouth to speak, uncertain about what I'm going to say, but it doesn't matter; the roof door opens, revealing Taylor, and the moment's broken.

 _Perfect timing, asshole..._

By the time we get home, the invisible wall has started rebuilding itself between us. Ana doesn't meet my gaze until we're standing outside her bedroom door, both of us reluctant to say good night.

"I really had a wonderful evening, Christian," she says quietly, looking up at me with her big blue eyes. "Thank you."

I smile. "You're welcome," I respond. "I'm just happy you agreed to let me take you out at all."

She nods a little, her brow furrowing and revealing the little _V_ between her eyebrows. I know what I want to do right now; I just don't know if she wants me to do it. Of course, the longer we stand here in the middle of the hallway alone, the moment is becoming more and more awkward, so I take a deep breath and bend down just enough to place my lips over hers, not quite touching. We both have our eyes wide open, looking at each other as we attempt to read the other's thoughts. Almost in slow motion, I see Ana's hand come up out of the corner of my eye, and for a moment I fear she might push me away; instead, she tentatively slides her fingers into my hair and closes what little remaining distance there is between us. I groan against her lips, she gasps, and I take the opportunity to slip inside her mouth. Both her hands are in my hair now and at some point I've backed her up against the bedroom door, pressing into her as we kiss like we've never done it before and will never get the chance again. One of my hands cups her face, keeping her in position while my other slides down her body, eventually settling on her bottom.

I don't recall ever kissing her quite like this: like she is my life force and I need to breathe in all I can of her. It's a desperate kiss and I know if one of us doesn't stop soon, it's going to lead to something more. Not that I'd complain, of course. I just wouldn't want her to do something in the heat of the moment, then wake up tomorrow thinking she'd made a mistake and blaming me for not putting a stop to things sooner.

Apparently this thought crosses Ana's mind at the same time: she manages to pull away from me, breathing heavily and looking flushed. I'm sure I'm not fairing any better right now. Her eyes are wide, filled with sorrow and desire and something else I can't quite work out.

"Um," she gasps, looking anywhere but directly at me. "I should probably get some sleep."

I nod jerkily, running my hands through my hair in a half-assed attempt to get myself back into control. "Of course," I say, panting slightly. "I'll see you in the morning."

With that, she's slipping into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. I'm left alone in the hallway with a full erection, trying to get a grip on myself.

 _Wouldn't it be better if Anastasia were to get a grip on you?_ my mind suggests, only making things worse. Biting my lips against a groan, I head down the hall to my room and waste no time shedding my clothes so I can get into the coldest shower I've ever experienced.

A little later, I'm feeling slightly more in control as I climb into bed and stare at the ceiling, one arm curled behind my head. I wonder if Ana's fallen asleep yet of if she's doing the same thing I am and whether I'll ever get the chance to lie next to her, holding her, whispering to her how much she means to me and how fucking lucky I am to have her in my life. I want to tell her how utterly undeserving I am that's she's even considering giving me yet another chance and that if she does, I won't throw this one away like I have the last several chances.

I fall into a restless sleep, dreaming about Anastasia just being out of reach of my touch. Every time I manage to just graze her fingertips, she's pulled farther and farther away from me, leaving me desperate to catch up to her.

I can't let that happen.


	23. Chapter 23

I wake up the next morning and make my way downstairs, unaware how much I'd been looking forward to seeing Christian after last night until I realized he wasn't home. There's a note taped to my door that I don't discover until I make my way upstairs to wake Teddy. Smiling like a schoolgirl at the sight of Christian's neat handwriting spelling out my name, I take the note and open it:

 _Anastasia,_

 _I am so sorry that I won't be joining you for breakfast, but I had to make a last minute trip to Grey House to sign a few things. I promise not to be gone too long, lunchtime at the very latest; once this is done, I have all weekend to spend with you and our son, which is much more rewarding than mergers and acquisitions._

 _I also wanted to let you know how much I truly enjoyed last night. I cannot put into words how much it means to me that you're willing to give me this chance. Every second of our evening together will be forever engrained on my mind as well as the image of your sweet, beautiful smile and your melodic laugh, even when you're laughing at me. I know I still have a long way to go in earning back your trust and one date isn't going to erase all the hurt I've caused you. All I can hope is that with time I can get us past this._

 _I love you, Ana._

 _Christian x_

 _p.s. This may be pushing my luck, but I was awake all night thinking about that kiss. It took every ounce of self-restraint to remain in my room and not sneak into yours. Do I at least get points for keeping my urges under control?_

I roll my eyes at the postscript, but I'm smiling. I have no idea how long I lay in bed last night, staring at my ceiling, and thinking about what had just occurred between me and my husband. It wasn't just the kiss, though admittedly, I've given that quite a bit of thought. The date itself was beyond wonderful. It was so very uniquely Christian. Thoughtful, romantic, sweet. All our firsts—Charlie Tango, oysters at the Heathman—and a new one: seeing a movie in a real movie theater. I'm still smirking at the thought of Christian Grey in a suit that probably could have paid several people's salaries for months sitting in cheap seats surrounded by "normal" people.

And then there was the kiss.

True it's not the first one we've shared since I left him, but unlike the one in London, this one hadn't been surrounded by depressing conversation and drama. It was just the two of us, like in the beginning, where our happiness and passion pulled us towards each other like we were magnets. Though admittedly, I can't think of a single time either of us had the strength to actually pull away before we mauled off each other's clothes. There was no doubt in my mind that he was more than willing and able to do more, but the fact that he stopped when I needed him to shows a lot.

 _So we're just going to forget everything he's done?_ snarls my subconscious. _One kiss and all is forgiven? You've said it yourself: this is about more than the affair with Lucy, or even the emotional affair with Elena. It's about him not respecting your need for independence and respect. How respectable is it to give in just because he pressed you against a door and snogged you senseless?_

I raise an eyebrow at my subconscious's choice of terminology, but shake it off; apparently she's spent a little too long in London... I'm not forgiving him and I'm not forgetting everything that's happened. This is just part of the new beginning we both want. I could either sit around the house moping and feeling sorry for myself or I can enjoy myself. Christian is putting more effort into this reconciliation than he's put in our relationship in far too long, and I want this. For both of us. End of story.

When I arrive in the kitchen to scrounge breakfast up for me and Teddy, I find Gail preparing what looks to be tonight's dinner, obliviously humming to some song I can't quite decipher.

"Morning," I say, biting my lip against a laugh when she yelps and jumps.

She turns, her hand over her heart. I grin. "Ana, you scared me," she breathed.

"Sorry," I say, trying to sound contrite and failing miserably.

"Of course you are," she mutters, her lips twitching as she raises an eyebrow. "And how was your date with Mr. Grey."

My grin widens. "It was..." I struggle to find the perfect descriptive word. "Perfect."

She smiles fondly. "I'm glad to hear it," she tells me gently. "Mr. Grey was in a very pleasant mood this morning when he and Taylor left for the office. I can't remember the last time I saw him smiling so much."

I smile to myself, suddenly filled with the urge to hug myself and rock back and forth like a lovelorn teenager. My subconscious is disgusted with me. What else is new.

"How was your time away with Jason?" I ask, trying to get the attention off me.

Beaming, Gail tells me about her few days off with her husband as she makes tea and yogurt and granola for my breakfast. It's nice to be home again, to have this camaraderie with Gail. Christian, of course, never approved of my forming relationships with "the staff," but over the years, his objections have lost more and more of their conviction, and I know he's given up controlling that aspect. For the most part, at least.

"I've been hoping to talk to you, Ana," Gail says quietly, yanking me back to the present. Her tone has taken a serious edge and I'm suddenly nervous. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, but this has been eating away at me for nearly a year."

Shit.

"Gail, you really don't have to," I try to tell her.

She looks at me sternly. "Ana, if I were in your shoes, I would be beyond angry about this. Not just at my husband, but anyone who had a part to play in keeping it from me. In this case, that includes me. I'm ashamed of it. I should have told you what I knew the moment I found out about it; despite my employment, you have become a dear friend and I've always cared about you. Sorry doesn't quite cover it, but I'm not sure what else I can say."

I sit back in my chair at the bar, my eyes focused on my teacup. I knew at some point this would come up, but I wish it could have held out a little longer to let me bask in the afterglow of last night's date. "Did you know the whole time?" I hear myself asking in a whisper.

"No," she admits. "But I knew for long enough that I should have said something. You deserve so much better than what's been going on."

I agree, but don't say anything. Of course I wish somebody had given me some sort of hint of what was going on. Taylor, Gail, Sawyer. Any of them could have tipped me off about the affair. The fact that they didn't made me feel a little betrayed. I know the staff has always been fond of me—I'm just as fond of them—but when it comes down to it, they work for Christian. Whichever one of them told me about the affair would have been out on the street on their ass the moment Christian found out. And he would have found out, whether I told him or he discovered it in the way only he could manage.

"Can I ask you something, Gail?" I hear myself asking.

She looks up at me in surprise. "Of course, Ana," she responds.

I sigh, wondering if I even want to get into this right now. "What would you have done? If you had been in my shoes and it was Jason who'd had the affair, how would you have reacted?"

The question doesn't seem to surprise her, which makes me wonder if the thought had crossed her mind over the last several months. "Well," she begins slowly, "I'd like to think I would be strong enough to leave the way you did. My heart would be broken beyond repair and I'm not sure I could manage without him. I would certainly be angry. But whether I could ever even consider taking him back..." She sighs. "I can't tell you what I would do. Instinct tells me I would leave without looking back, file divorce, and move on with my life. But when it comes down to it, the only person who can decide what the best course of action is the one going through it. You have to decide for yourself whether you and your husband can get past this. I'm sure you feel beyond betrayed, and understandably so; I'd feel the same. Is the love you had before enough to see you through? Or will you always look at him seeing only the man who hurt you? You're strong enough to make that decision and you have to do it for yourself, not for Christian. Jason and I don't have any children between us, which would probably help me make that decision much more easily. I know you don't want to see your son hurting, but you have to consider how it will affect him to see his mother hurting. He might grow up to resent the father he absolutely adores right now. At some point, he's going to reach the age where he understands exactly what happened between you and Christian and you have to decide what you're going to tell him, whether you and Christian are together or not."

I swallow hard, nodding. Everything she is saying out loud are things I've thought repeatedly over the last few months and it's a huge comfort to have somebody validate these thoughts. "I just don't want to be seen as weak by giving into him and coming home," I say quietly, admitting my worst fears. "I feel like I'm just setting myself up for more hurt—what if he does it again? What if he doesn't follow through on his promises to change?"

Gail looks at me knowingly. "I don't think he'll pull anything like this again," she tells me. "The change in him since you've been home has been amazing. And I'm referring to the last couple years as well as the time you were away. He looks at you the way he did in the beginning and I honestly don't see him ruining this again."

I really hope she's right, but I'm still skeptical. So much needs to change and as much as I want to believe Christian can pull it off, I can't help but wonder how long it will be before he reverts to the old Christian, the one who distances himself from me rather than lets me into his head.

Our discussion is interrupted by Teddy running into the room, demanding playtime. Grinning at Gail, I sincerely thank her for everything she said before taking my son into the living room.

* * *

Yesterday was a good day. Despite not wanting to go into work for anything, I managed to finish what needed to be done and was reunited with my family by lunchtime. When I walked in the house, I found Ana lost in thought and frowning. When I asked her what was wrong, she shook her head, trying to smile. It took a bit of pressing to get her to admit that she'd been "thinking," and she refused to go into any more detail. Since then, she's been a little more distant towards me, gazing at me when I'm occupied doing something else. I'm not sure what happened between Friday night when I left her at her door and when I returned home from Grey House yesterday afternoon, but I can't deny that it is making me nervous and edgy.

Now we're on our way to Bellevue for our first family dinner since our return from London. This isn't helping my nerves. I'm about to face my parents, my siblings, and Kate, all of whom are beyond angry with me for several reasons. I've taken Ana's words about breaking the news that I've kept in contact with Elena after all these years to Grace, but I'm not sure how to go about doing it, or whether tonight is even the best time to do so. I want to come clean about what I've done. I want to prove to Ana that I'm trying to change my old behavior and I think this will go a long way in helping with that.

Perhaps we'll just see how the evening goes.

We're the first to arrive at my parents' home and they both immediately pull Ana and Teddy into hugs, ignoring me completely at first. I see my father's glare directed at me and I know if my son weren't here, I'd probably be directed to his study for some sort of lecture. To my surprise, my mother pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek, then leads all of us into the living room for drinks. The tension is palpable and I can see how uncomfortable Ana is as she accepts a glass of wine from Carrick. Conversation is stilted until we hear the front door opening and Mia's energetic voice calling that she's arrived.

"As though we really needed the announcement," my father comments wryly with a fond smile. Ana and my mother leave the room to greet her, and before I can make an excuse to leave as well, Carrick has locked his gaze on me. "We've got a lot to talk about."

I sigh. "Dad, please," I say. "Can't we just have a nice dinner?"

He raises his eyebrows at me. "That depends," he says coolly. "Were you planning on telling us about Elena?"

I freeze, my eyes widening. "What?" I ask dumbly.

Carrick glances at the door, checking to see if we're alone. "Your mother doesn't know," he assures me. "I only came across it because I was going through some of the information about this Lucy woman and found Elena's name in several documents."

My brow furrows. "What documents?" I ask slowly, ignoring for the moment that my father is looking in on things I haven't actually asked him to look in on.

"Interrogation records, the woman's email correspondence in the days leading up to Teddy's kidnapping. Red flags were popping up like crazy so I did a bit more digging. It seems Elena has been making several large deposits into the other woman's bank account over the last year or so. Why would that be?"

I sigh heavily. This is news to me... "I don't know," I admit, not quite truthfully. "What I do know is that Elena has apparently been plotting with Lucy about breaking up my marriage. Lucy was able to access my private calendar to find out when I would be out of the country, where I would be staying, that sort of thing. I can only assume Elena's had a part in that."

"And why, after all this time, would Elena bother getting involved?" Carrick asks. "You were supposed to have cut her out of your life, at least that's what you told your mother. Am I to assume you've broken that promise?"

Now I'm starting to get angry. I was supposed to be able to break this to my parents in my own way. "What do you think?" I say harshly. "I fucked up. What else is new?"

He sighs. "Christian..." Before he can comment any further, we hear Kate and Elliot arriving, as well as Teddy and Ava squealing as they set eyes on each other for the first time in months. I take the opportunity to push myself off the couch to rejoin my family, leaving Carrick behind.

* * *

Most of my family has ignored me this evening, which is both a relief and frustrating as hell. I almost want to leave; the only person that might actually notice is my son. Then again he's having so much fun playing with his cousin that he might not. I've caught Ana looking at me several times sympathetically, but any time she tries to talk to me, someone distracts her.

 _Fuck this..._

I leave the living room and head for music room where I stare transfixed at the piano my parents have owned since we moved into this house back when I was a child. This is the piano I learned to play on, the one that helped my find an acceptable escape when my life became too much. My fingers graze the keys softly, almost reverently, as I consider the merits of losing myself in music. Unfortunately, the choice is taken from me.

"You stupid son of a bitch."

My eyes close slowly at the growling voice entering the room. The door clicks shut and I steel myself for the inevitable. Turning towards Kate, I open my eyes and will myself to stay calm. "Good to see you, too, Kate," I mutter tersely, leaning against the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hisses at me, closing much of the distance between us.

I raise an eyebrow. "I was about to join my family for dinner," I lie dryly.

She ignores my tone, her eyes blazing in anger. "Seven fucking months, Grey!" she growls. "My best friend fled her home to get away from you for seven fucking months, refusing to tell anybody why, and you don't even have the fucking decency to tell us the truth."

I've been expecting this altercation, so I keep my mouth shut to let Kate get this out of her system.

"From the first moment I met you, I knew you would break her heart." Kate's volume has lowered, but the disgust in her tone more than makes up for it. "I warned her over and over. I told you that if you hurt her, I'd string you up by your balls. How many others have there been, Christian? You got a few submissives on the side, too? Any time Ana doesn't come to heel for you, they're your outlet?"

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I don't have to explain anything to you, Kate," I say in a deathly quiet voice, my temper rising quickly. "It's none of your fucking business."

"You don't think so?" she counters in the same tone. "If it wasn't for you, Ana wouldn't be in this much pain right now. You drove her away from her family and friends. Instead of being the husband and father you should have been, you were out fucking some other woman. How many times did you go home and fuck Ana after leaving your whore, Grey?" My breathing is coming in rapid bursts and I know I'm about to lose it. "Why are you even trying to get back together with her? She wasn't good enough before, so what's changed?"

"Kate," I begin in warning. She's pushing me way too far right now.

"You don't love her," she says in disgust. "You're too fucking focused on your own happiness that you can't even see what you have in front of you. She gave you everything. Her virginity, her love, her devotion... your son. And this is how you repay her! She needs to run as far from you as possible and find real happiness, but once again, you've got her brainwashed into thinking you actually give a shit about her."

"Fuck you," I growl. "You think I don't know what she's given me?"

"No, I don't'!" she says loudly. "If you did, you wouldn't have cheated on her! You'd have been at home worshiping the ground she walks on. You're a selfish bastard, Christian, and that's never changed. I don't think you _can_ change it!"

I open my mouth to respond, but all the air is blown out of me when the door opens, revealing Ana staring between Kate and me with wide eyes. I can only imagine what this looks like to her—me and her best friend alone in a room with the door closed standing far too close to one another. I sidestep Kate to get away from her, trying to think of an explanation—I can't even form words to tell her the truth of what was going on. Kate and I are still visibly angry with each other and even the slightest spark between us might push things way too far and ruin my mother's family dinner plans.

"What's going on?" Ana asks suspiciously, looking between us, her eyes resting accusingly on me.

"We were just talking," Kate manages to say.

Nodding slowly, Ana's eyes narrow on us. "I heard raised voices," she says.

"We were talking emphatically," I chime in quietly. Glancing at Kate, I find some of her anger has deflated, though she's still glaring at me as though she'd love nothing more than to rip me apart with her bare hands.

"Right," Ana drawls out. "Grace asked me to find the two of you for dinner..."

I nod. "Of course." I walk past my wife, wanting desperately to pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply enough to make the both of us forget what just happened, even if she has no idea. Her arms are wrapped around herself, hugging herself, and she barely glances at me as I pass her, her eyes trained on Kate. I think I know what Ana wants—she might not know the details of the discussion between Kate and me, but she's got enough of an idea that she wants to have a private word with her friend. With a tight smile, I leave the room, pulling the door closed, and head for the dining room.

* * *

Dinner is subdued. After Christian left us alone, I tried to get Kate to tell me what the yelling was about—I wasn't able to make out the exact words I was hearing—but she's clammed up. I'm sitting beside Christian, but he's avoiding my eyes, not engaging in conversation from anybody. The tension is rolling off him and I'm both eager and reluctant to get him alone to talk to him.

Unfortunately, I don't get a chance. After dinner, Christian receives a phone call that keeps him in Carrick's study while the rest of us enjoy a couple glasses of wine. Kate hasn't said much either, and I know it's no secret that she and Christian got into it earlier, but nobody brings it up. As we all say goodnight, Grace gives me a look of pure sympathy as she glances at my silent, brooding husband.

"Don't let him settle in this mood," she advises while she hugs me. "He'll only pull farther away."

I give her a smile, acknowledging her words and already planning how I'm going to handle this. Christian has Teddy asleep on his shoulder and is waiting as patiently he can for me to finish with the family. "Ready," I say quietly when I join them outside.

Christian nods and leads the way towards the car, spending more time than what is probably necessary making sure Teddy is buckled securely in his car seat. He spends so much time ducked in the backseat that I give up waiting for him to open my door, which he's done without fail every time we ride together, and get in on my own. Christian joins me a minute or so later, his brow furrowed as he starts the car. I glance in the rearview mirror at my sleeping son, knowing pushing conversation about whatever happened with Kate and Christian isn't the best idea at the moment.

It takes half the car ride before I find something to say that might not set him off any further. "I'm taking Teddy out tomorrow," I inform him.

He blinks rapidly as though he's just realizing I'm sitting beside him. "What?" he mutters.

"We're going to lunch with Kate and Ava," I say cautiously, watching his reaction carefully. The only reaction to hearing my best friend's name is the tensing of his jaw.

I settle back in my seat, turning away from him in favor of staring out the window. I've spent the better part of our relationship trying to get Christian and Kate to get along. In the beginning, they were the two people I loved most in the world and I couldn't stand the thought of them hating each other. As time went on, I accepted that they were both far too alike—both of them are fiercely overprotective of me, stubborn as all hell, and felt the other was wrong in whatever way they happened to be arguing about. It never stopped being frustrating and I do wish they would find common ground—it'd make my life that much easier—but I think I'm starting to resign myself to the fact that that may never happen.

Even still, whenever those two disagree, their bad moods and animosity towards each other lasts long enough for them to be rid of each other's presence and they go back to normal. For Christian to be so affected by what he and Kate were discussing tells me I was the subject. Of course, I knew Kate would have several things to say to my husband about the affair and I knew she wouldn't be wasting any time giving him a piece of her mind; Christian should have known, though. He should have expected it.

By the time we arrive home, I'm feeling upset about the apparent silent treatment I'm getting from Christian. This change from the open and happy, yet still cautious Christian that I've been dealing with since I came home has given me whiplash, but I manage to keep my peace until Teddy is tucked into bed. Predictably, Christian sets off towards his study rather than acknowledge me. I do the only thing I can think of right now: I follow him. This is supposed to be a new beginning for us, one in which we are supposed to be honest and communicative. I can't let old habits of letting him cool down to the point I don't want to bring it up again, risking an argument between the two of us, come back to the surface.

He spares me a brief glance as he sits behind his desk, his jaw tightening further. At this rate, he's going to put so much pressure on his teeth that they'll end up breaking...

"Are we going to talk about this?" I ask quietly, standing in front of the desk and crossing my arms.

Sighing, he drops his head into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Talk about what, Anastasia?" he asks, falling into his cold CEO persona.

"What happened with Kate?"

His eyes close briefly and I see a few different emotions playing across his face—sadness, anger, self-loathing. "Don't worry about it," he mutters dismissively. "I've got it under control."

I'm trembling right now. Anger, disappointment, resentment, sadness... All the feelings I'd had for Christian before I left him are returning full force and I don't like it. I thought we were starting to get past this.

 _He'll never change,_ hisses my subconscious. _It was all just words to get you back home and under his roof again. He didn't mean a single one of them._

I want to yell at him, shake him, throw something at him, anything to get him to show me he's still in there somewhere. All I can do, though, is turn around and walk away before he sees my face crumbling from hurt. I can't deal with this tonight. I'm tired and frustrated and need distance. But before I can stop myself, I'm turning around to face him again.

"Why are you doing this?" I demand quietly.

He looks up at me sharply. "Doing what?" he responds without emotion.

"Shutting me out," I clarify. "I thought you weren't going to do this anymore, that you were set on getting us back to something we haven't been for years, and here we are, after one shouting match with Kate, right back where we were before that fucking affair."

The expression on his face makes him look as though I've just slapped him, but it's gone quickly, replaced by his own anger. "You want to talk about opening up?" he asks in a deathly quiet voice. "I've been asking you since I got home yesterday why it is that you look as though you've never been more miserable. You blocked me out. Now tell me, Anastasia, why should I open up to you when you are so determined not to open up to me?"

I stare open-mouthed at him, unable to deny the claim, but unwilling to back down. "Fuck you, Christian," I mutter, turning and leaving the study. I ignore his shouts after me and the loud crashing sound that suggests he's broken something as I enter my room, slamming the door behind me.

Throwing myself onto my bed, realizing I'm acting like a pissy, pouting teenager, I wonder how we went from so happy the other night to fighting two nights later.

 _This is always how it goes,_ my subconscious reminds me. _For every improvement he makes, he does something to destroy it and make it worse._

 _The question is, are you willing to put up with it long enough to rebuild everything you lost?_

Though I don't sleep at all, I still don't come up with a suitable answer.

* * *

Having spent the entire night debating on whether to continue whatever the hell had gone on between Ana and me, I didn't sleep a wink. I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling until I heard Ana moving around outside the door to get Teddy up and ready for breakfast, waiting until her voice faded away, then got ready for work. Now I'm lingering just outside the kitchen, debating on whether I should join my family for breakfast or just leave. Being the masochist I apparently am, I decide on the former, though I enter warily, trying to gage Ana's mood this morning.

She seems happy enough as she laughs and cuts up Teddy's pancakes for him. Deciding it's safe for the moment, I mutter a good morning and start filling the plate waiting for me beside the stove. When I glance over my shoulder at Ana, I find her expression has changed—she's no longer smiling or happy-looking; she's frowning and upset.

 _Dammit..._

Teddy greets me normally, so I try to focus on my son. It's not until he's finished breakfast and runs off to watch cartoons while Ana starts on the dishes before I feel the tension between us again. I know what's upset her and I know I need to fix it before it goes any further, but I'm terrified she's blowing this way farther out of proportion than it's already been blown.

 _If you want her back, though, you need to start taking a couple chances, Grey. You need to stop hurting her. You need to apologize._

Taking a deep breath, I move to lean on the counter beside the sink. "Ana?" I begin quietly.

She acknowledges by tensing her body.

I sigh. "Look, about last night..."

"Don't," she tells me quietly, almost harshly. "Don't do this, Christian. The only time you're ever truly honest with me is when I'm pissed at you. You apologize then you tell me what it is I was trying to get you to tell me before I was pissed. Not this time." I stare at her, mouth agape as she turns to look at me fully, her expression cold. "You had your chance to let me in, Christian. And you blew it. So please, just leave me alone and go to work."

I feel cold and terrified and panicked. The last time she looked at me like this was right before she left me. I want to beg her forgiveness, beg her to be patient with me, beg her not to leave me. I can't do any of that, though, as she turns away from me. Instinct kicks in; I bury all the feelings that make me seem weak, replacing them with something I can handle so much better: coldness, control, power.

Without a word, I turn away and leave the kitchen, ignoring my son's calls to come play with him, and walk out the front door to where Taylor is waiting beside the SUV, slamming the door behind me.


	24. Chapter 24

Though all I want to do is curl up and ignore the world after this morning, Teddy and I are currently on our way to meet Kate and Ava for lunch. Being angry with Christian shouldn't mean disappointing my son who's been looking forward to this outing all weekend. Besides, my best friend and I have a few things to discuss.

As much as Christian pissed me off last night by throwing our lack of communication in my face, to a point, he was right. For me to stand in front of him and preach about opening up to me when the one time he asked me to open up to him about why I was upset only for me to blow him off is unfair. By now it's a natural reaction to fight back when he's like this, but I have to keep reminding myself that we're both trying to change the way things have been the last few years and being a bitch when he's being a dick isn't changing a damn thing.

It doesn't help matters that when I did manage to get some sleep last night, all my dreams were filled with images of Christian and Kate. For the briefest of moments when I walked into that room where they had been holed up, I imagined them doing something much less innocent than fighting. I feel horrible for thinking Kate would do that to me. Christian a little less so, all things considered. But it made me wonder whether I'll ever get over being suspicious of anything he does or says. I don't want to live my life like that. And I don't want Christian to live his life watching every step he takes and every word he speaks. It's not fair to either of us.

We have to get past this...

I really think I'm starting to get desperate.

What the hell is wrong with me?

As we pull into the parking lot at the playground where we're meeting Kate and Ava, the girls themselves can be seen setting up a blue checkered blanket beneath a large shade tree. Teddy is bouncing in anticipation as I unbuckle him from his seat and as is always the case, my son's happiness overshadows all my darker feelings. I take his hand, grabbing the backpack of food we brought along with us for lunch and head out to the girls.

Ava sees us first and abandons her mother to run towards us. She and Teddy hug in the way little kids who haven't yet developed the typical childhood aversion to the opposite sex hug, but I'm looking at Kate. Kate is looking back at me as though she's surprised to find I'd kept our plans for the day and now she's looking terrified for whatever might be coming.

 _And she's got every right to be,_ growls my subconscious, sharpening her nails.

Again, that old thing about hurting my husband's feelings despite what he's put me through is coming through the surface. Apparently it's okay for him to run me down at his convenience, but not for somebody else to run him down. How fucked up is that?

"Hi, Kate," I say quietly, setting down my bag.

"Hey," she responds cautiously, eyeing me closely. "How's it going?"

I raise an eyebrow, biting back every sarcastic response that pops into my head. "Never better," I mutter dryly. Apparently I couldn't hold all of them back...

She sighs. "Ana..."

"Not now, Kate," I say a little more sharply than I intended. "Not with my son around."

She looks miserable, which manages to lift my spirits slightly, and nods. We manage to set aside the animosity between us for our children's sakes and settle into only slightly awkward conversation. It's more than evident that she's bursting to say something. Whether that something is an apology for yesterday or a lecture about how horrible Christian is for cheating on me and how I should leave him, I don't know yet.

With lunch out of the way and the kids off playing, I glance out of the corner of my eye to find Kate taking a very deep breath, letting it out slowly, and turning towards me. "Ana, listen—"

"Me first," I interrupt, turning to face her as well. "I don't know what you said to Christian since neither of you would tell me, but I think I've got a pretty decent summation of the conversation. While I appreciate your concern, you need to let me handle this."

Her eyes widen indignantly. "Ana! The bastard cheated on you for five months!" she whispers loudly in an attempt to keep our conversation private. "It's probably been going on during your entire marriage! And the bitch kidnapped your son!"

"Believe me, Kate, I am fully aware of the situation. But I've made a conscious effort to come home and work through our problems and you really need to respect that," I tell her firmly. "Why is it so wrong for me to want to fix my marriage?"

Sighing, Kate rolls her eyes, glancing over to where Ava and Teddy are taking turns going down the slide. "Under normal circumstances, there's nothing wrong with it," she says. "But this..." She shakes her head. "I've been telling you for years he's bad news and I knew he would end up breaking your heart. I tried to be supportive of you because you loved him, but I can't stand idly by and watch you hurt like this. Why are you even bothering with this? He's going to do it again!"

"You've got a lot of balls saying that to me, Kate," I say darkly. "Or have you forgotten what Elliot did to you? And for longer than Christian?"

She has the audacity to look at me in hurt and shock. "Why would you say that to me?" she asks in a whisper.

"Because you're sitting there on your fucking high horse pretending like Christian is the first man to ever cheat on his wife and like I'm the stupidest, most naïve person on the planet for even considering taking him back," I snap. "I know you never liked him. And for a while I took your opinion to heart, knowing you were only trying to protect me. But as I told you when we first started dating, I can handle it on my own. I'm not an idiot, Kate. I know he fucked up and that there's a chance he might do it again. If he does, I will divorce his ass and never look back. But we are working towards fixing our marriage. I don't think that's the worst thing in the world."

"I never said it was," Kate says defensively. "I'm just worried for you, Ana. The fact that you had to leave the country to get away from him... How much else was going on that you didn't tell us about? And by the way, why _didn't_ you tell us? We never would have let you stew in England in some shithole apartment for months if we knew this is what happened."

I take a few of anger management techniques of Christian's—closing my eyes, taking several deep breaths, counting to ten—but now I'm on a roll, I don't really want to let this go. "First of all, what happens between me and my husband is between me and my husband. We don't need another person interfering in our marriage, Kate. I think we've had plenty of that shit over the years. I didn't tell anybody because I needed to work things out on my own before working them out with Christian, and if I had you or my mom or anybody else in my ear, I wouldn't have made the decision based on my feelings or my son's best interests—I would have been worn down enough to follow whatever advice you tried to feed me. As for my 'shithole apartment'..." Okay, I can't really argue that one... "I was determined to do things on my own without Christian's assistance. For what I had to my own name, I did the best I could. It wasn't the best choice I've ever made and I rectified that mistake when I could."

Kate is looking at me in open-mouthed surprise. I realize I've raised the volume of my voice with the possibility of drawing unwanted attention. I really couldn't give a shit right now. "I am so fucking sick of defending my choices to everybody. I am so fucking sick of everybody telling me what it is I should be doing in terms of my marriage. And I am so _fucking sick_ of the judgmental bullshit! You want to know why I'm considering taking Christian back, Kate? It's because I'm still in love with him. Ridiculously, irreversibly, madly in love with him. I tried to move on from him, I even went on a date in London and had an incredibly amazing kiss, but when it came down to it, I knew I wouldn't be able to be with him.

"I haven't and will not forget what Christian has done, and he knows what will happen if he ever hurts me like that again. We both have a lot of work to do if we have any chance of improvement. But you cornering him yesterday at Carrick and Grace's didn't fucking help, Kate. I know you were only trying to protect me, but that is not what we needed. Not that it's any of your business, but Christian has made a fuck load of progress, just in the short time since Teddy's kidnapping. We're both in therapy, together, and I think I'll start going on my own, since I have my own issues to overcome. For the most part, we're honest and open with each other in a way we haven't been for years. I don't know if we'll be able to do this or not, but until we've made a decision one way or another, you can either support me or stay the hell away from me. The choice is yours."

I keep my gaze looked firmly on Kate as she processes my words. I don't remember ever going off on my best friend like this before. Hell, I don't remember ever going off on _anybody_ like this before. Now that the words are out, I feel like a painfully heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I actually feel better.

"Ana," Kate begins, shaking her head, "I'm sorry. You're right, about everything. Of course I support you. I owe you that much after being there for me after what Elliot did. I'm just... I'm sorry."

I nod. "I don't want apologies," I tell her gently. "I want my life back, Kate. I want to be able to watch Christian leave the house for work in the morning and not wonder whether he's doing something he shouldn't. I want to be able to have a conversation with my family without every last one of them feeling sorry for me."

"I can understand that," Kate says quietly after several silent minutes, looking over at the playground to our children. "From the second I found out what Elliot did, I thought everything was over. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to kill her... I kept wondering what my life would be like if I divorced him and left him. Ava would have grown up without her father and I never would have been the same... I can't even tell you how many people tried to talk me about of trying to fix my marriage, and I should have known you would feel the same. And you're right, I don't like Christian and I probably never will, but it's worse than that now."

I raise an eyebrow. "How?" I wonder. I didn't believe their relationship could get any worse.

She sighs before meeting my gaze again. "When you left, ours was the first place Christian came looking for you. All he would tell us was that you left and he couldn't find you or Teddy and how absolutely terrified he was. I didn't know what to think, Ana. That entire week leading up to that night, I knew something was up with you—you were distant and sad. I didn't know what to do or say. Then when you left, and we didn't have any real explanation, we started coming up with our own theories. One was that you just weren't happy anymore. Another was that _you'd_ met somebody.

"I comforted Christian that night. _Actually_ comforted him—I sat next to him on my couch with my arm around him while he cried into his hands about you leaving him. If we'd had your side of the story, that would have gone differently, but we didn't. When you finally contacted us almost two weeks later, all you would say was that you couldn't be with Christian anymore and to please respect your wishes for privacy. It took every one of us to keep Christian from flying to London to find you. I know I told you this before, but he completely lost it when you left and if that is what he was like before meeting you, I really do feel sorry for his family."

She pauses as she eyes my crumbling expression, sighing. "Look, I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I think I understand why you did things the way you did. All I want to say is that you've got my support even if it's for something I really don't agree with. You're not the same little Ana Steele I managed to talk into interviewing some hotshot CEO because I was sick—"

I giggle through my tears; Kate grins.

"You have changed and I have to trust that you know what's best for you and for your son. Of course I'm going to be protective of you. And if he does anything like this again, I don't give a shit if I have your permission or not—that bastard is going down."

I roll my eyes, smiling. "Deal," I agree quietly, wiping at my face. "I suppose it would be pushing my luck if I requested you apologize to Christian?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Without a doubt, Steele," she tells me dully. "Even though I'm sorry for the way it came out, I meant every fucking word I said to him."

"Fair enough," I say, smiling a little. Despite how pissed off I still am at Kate, and everybody else for that matter, I decide to let it go for now, especially since our children have run back to us wanting dessert. Rolling our eyes at each other, Kate starts dishing out the cake she brought along.

I know this discussion is far from over and that Kate will need to be reminded of her promises at least twice, but I think I finally made someone understand my side of things. Even if I didn't, I made myself realize I need to follow through on my words, just as I've been begging Christian to do with his. We're in this together and until we've decided otherwise, I remain determined to fix my marriage.

* * *

My level of panic and fear hasn't lessened in the slightest since leaving the house this morning. I held out for a couple hours, trying to focus on my business, snapping at undeserving employees, and setting in motion several things that I hope will keep my life semi-drama-free for the time being. In the end, none of my distractions worked. I emailed Ana, thinking it might garner some sort of response from her—in the past, some of our most candid conversations took place through email. Uncertain what I was supposed to say, I apologized again for shutting her out last night. I know I was out of line after the confrontation with Kate. I shouldn't have taken my frustration and anger with my sister-in-law out on my wife.

At the same time, though, there weren't many points Kate brought up that I hadn't thought about on my own already. And yes, I had expected that sort of reaction from Kate. I just hadn't expected it to come up like that, at my parents' home while my family was trying to pretend I didn't exist, and following my father's announcement that he's fully aware I didn't hold to my promise to my mother about never seeing Elena again. I deserved every word Kate threw at me, but I was blindsided.

When Ana didn't respond to my email, my heart sank as I replayed her words in my mind: _"You had your chance to let me in, Christian. And you blew it. So please, just leave me alone and go to work."_ What did she mean by that? Did I blow the chance to tell her what happened with Kate? Or was she referring to our reconciliation? I can't help but think I'd deserve it if that is what she meant.

Since not getting a response via email, I've called, texted, called some more, called Gail... Ana hasn't responded to any of my communication attempts, and my call to Gail only revealed that Ana took Teddy out for the day. It's only then I remember she was meeting Kate and Ava for lunch. I calmed down a little until about an hour ago when, having expected my wife to be home by then, I called and found out she left behind her cell phone and still hasn't returned home.

I can't remember ever being this frightened in my life. Taylor is driving as quickly as he can without killing us, but of course it's not quick enough. The moment he finally pulls up in front of the house, I jump out and run inside, desperately hoping to find that my wife and son have arrived home in the time since I left GEH. I'm yelling for them, practically begging for them. And there's no response.

I'm trying desperately to be reasonable about this. Ana and Teddy could just be _out_ , it doesn't necessarily mean I've lost them again. But of course, my fears take over and I'm rushing through the house for some sign that they intended to come home after leaving Kate and Ava. Just as I've finished checking Teddy's room—and finding nothing out of place—and heading towards Ana's bedroom, I hear the front door opening and my son's laugh.

Relief. Sweet, sweet relief...

Heading back for the stairs, I try to get myself under control. I still don't know what Ana's feelings towards me are after this morning, whether she's still angry. Fuck, for all I know, after having Kate in her ear all afternoon telling her to leave me, she's come home to do just that. I manage to get myself down the stairs without killing myself. Ana is smiling as she takes off Teddy's jacket and helps him remove his shoes. When she turns towards the stairs, and me, I can't keep myself from reacting anymore.

"Ana..." I practically whimper, stepping off the last stair and crossing to her in a few long strides. I don't hesitate in doing what I've wanted to do all day, which is to pull her into my arms and hold her.

"Jesus, Christian," she gasps, instinctively putting her arms around my waist. "What happened?"

I can only shake my head, holding her more tightly as I think how incredibly lucky I am to have her here right now. After all I've done to her, all the horrible things I've said and thought about her over the months, she's still here and in my arms. I have to make this feeling last. Maybe not the one where I'm so panicked and fearful that I can't see straight so much, but the one that makes me believe that just having her in my arms completes everything I am, ever was, and will ever be. It's the feeling I had years ago when I was finally able to admit aloud that I loved her. It's the feeling I've been wanting back more than anything.

"You're home," I whisper hoarsely into her hair.

She manages to push me away just enough to look into my eyes and I'm nearly overwhelmed by the level of concern in her gaze. Wasn't she pissed off at me this morning...? "Of course I'm home," she whispers. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I hesitate, not wanting to vocalize my worst fears. I need to be honest with her, though. I have to share with her the things I'm thinking and fearing. "I tried contacting you all day," I start to explain, "and I never got a response from you. Then I found out you left your cell at home and I thought..." I trail off, unable to say it out loud.

Her brow furrows and I think she's worked out what I've been thinking all day. She glances towards the family room where Teddy is playing, then pulls out of my arms, slipping her hand into mine, and leading me up the stairs to her bedroom. After closing the door, she turns towards me, letting go of my hand. "You thought what?" she prompts softly. Her expression is now neutral and I know she's giving me the option to either let her in or shut her out.

I sigh heavily, running my hands through my hair. "I thought you were running," I admit, wincing as the words leave my mouth. I'm not sure whether it's worse that I thought she would run again after telling me she wouldn't, proving I didn't have any faith in her words, or that I, Christian fucking Grey multi-billionaire CEO, am so insecure that I've nearly given myself a heart attack running through my house searching of her.

Then I realize I don't give a fuck about admitting my insecurities when it comes to my wife and son. My money and business are nothing if I don't have them. It's more than just wanting them in my life. I need them. Today has been proof of that.

When I tune back into reality, I find a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and something else on Ana's eyes. "Christian," she says in a patient tone she's mastered when it comes to dealing with me. "Do you really think after everything we've been through one argument would have me running?"

I hear her words. I think I understand them. I just don't know how to respond to them. "But you said..."

"What?"

"This morning," I try to explain, "you told me it was too late and I blew it. I thought that meant..."

She rolls her eyes. "Christian, all I meant was that you had the chance to tell me what Kate said to you. I was angry. I was hurt, because we've been doing so well. I never meant you to think I was running again."

I lean back against the bedroom door and feel myself sliding down to the floor. It's a moment or so before I feel Ana sitting down beside me, reaching out to physically pull my arm around her shoulder. I pull her against me. "You have no idea how terrified I was today," I admit in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," she tells me in the same volume. "And I'm sorry for the way I treated you this morning. You were right last night when you told me I had no ground to stand on asking you to open up when I was doing nothing but shut you out this weekend."

I sigh heavily in relief, placing my lips against her temple. "I don't want to pressure you to talk, but you said it yourself: if we have any hope of surviving this, we both have to be on the same page."

She nods. "I know." She takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, resting her cheek against my shoulder. "When you came home from work and asked me what was wrong... All I told you was that I was thinking. And that was true. Saturday morning, I talked to Gail. She told me she knew about the affair before I found out. I don't know how long before I found out; all she would say was that it was long enough that she should have said something. She apologized for keeping me in the dark. In turn, I asked her what she would have done in my position. She basically told me she would have done the same thing I did, but wasn't sure if she'd have been strong enough to last as long as I did."

I let my head fall back to the wall. Being the total self-absorbed asshole I am, I never even considered the fact that my staff could have even told my wife about my affair. At the time I was cocky enough to believe I gave them enough salary and benefits for them to keep my secrets, not to mention their NDAs... And at the time, had a member of my staff been the one to tell Ana about Lucy, they would have been fired faster than they could blink, and I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

Throughout our marriage, I've tried to convince Anastasia that everything that is mine is hers—that includes my staff. Unlike me, she became attached to certain members of my staff. Those very same people kept something from her that broke her heart. Would it have been easier coming from Gail as opposed to that video Elena sent? Probably. It still would have resulted in Ana leaving me. Only now she has the added feelings of being betrayed by people she trusted—not just me.

"Please don't be angry with Gail," I say quietly. "Ana, the only person you need to be angry with is me. The only person you should feel betrayed by is me. The only one who should be on his fucking knees day in, day out, begging you for forgiveness is me. None of the staff would have told you without losing everything. Between the NDAs they signed when they started working for me and all the benefits I've given them... Gail's only option would have been to tell you what she knew, then immediately hand in her resignation to me. It would have left Taylor with the choice of his daughter's continued education or leaving the grounds with his wife. And yes, I am fully aware of how horrible that makes me sound. I was a cocky, arrogant bastard and even though I knew it would kill you to find out about the affair, I honestly never once thought you would find out about it."

"I also asked her what she would do in my position," she says as though she didn't hear a word I said.

I cock my head curiously. "What did she say?"

She sighs and huffs a humorless laugh. "She basically said she would have done the same thing I'm doing, only she wasn't sure she would have enough strength to actually get through it," she tells me. "Which I suppose is, in a way, comforting. Everybody seems to be telling me how strong I am for even considering giving you another chance."

"Well, they're right," I say, smiling slightly. "Though it might be easier for you if you took the other option." I say the words before I register what they are and I cringe.

"And when have you ever known me to take the easy way out, Grey?" she retorts, matching my smile.

I chuckle, resting my cheek on top of her head.

We sit like this for a while until Ana breaks the silence again. "Kate and I talked today."

I raise an eyebrow. "I figured as much," I murmur. "How'd that go?"

"I pretty much told her to mind her own fucking business. She started getting all high and mighty about once a cheater, always a cheater—" I wince at the words, but don't comment, "—but I shut that down with one well-placed reminder of what Elliot did. I told her we're trying to work through our issues. I said a lot of things to her that I've wanted to say to a lot of people who've butted into our problems. It felt good, Christian. Really good. Though she might not really understand why I want to stay here with you, I think she finally understands that I can handle myself."

"So she doesn't want to string my up by my balls anymore?" I ask hopefully, already knowing the answer.

Ana looks up at me, amusement in her eyes. "Oh no, she still wants to string you up by your balls," she assures me, "only now she's willing to hold off for a while to do it. Actually, she seemed just as pissed off that you lied to everyone about why I left as she did about the affair."

I bite my tongue against the retort I feel bubbling up— _I didn't lie. I just didn't tell the truth._ There's no difference between the two and it will only anger Ana. "Well, I'll take that as a win," I say dryly. I sigh, realizing Ana's renewed silence means it's my turn to share. "Before Kate cornered me, Carrick blindsided me to inform me that he knows I've been in contact with Elena."

Her head leaves my shoulder so quickly that she might have been burned. "How?" she asks, surprised.

"He was looking through some paperwork about Lucy and something didn't sit quite right with him, so he started doing a bit of digging until he discovered Elena has apparently been depositing large sums of money into Lucy's bank account for awhile now. I don't know how much or exactly how long—I managed to make my escape before he could say anything else—but he's put two and two together and realized the link between Lucy and Elena is me." I eye Ana warily, uncertain of how she'll react to hearing both women's names in one sentence.

To my surprise, she doesn't seem angry; only curious. "Carrick was looking into Lucy's bank accounts?" she asks, her eyebrow arched. "Isn't that kind of illegal?"

I ignore her slightly teasing edge—the one that suggests I learned my tricks of finding things out about people from Carrick—to answer. "Considering my father is a law abiding citizen, I can only assume he's gone through all the proper channels to gain access to this information," I say evenly. "Like I said, I'm sure he'll have much more to say to me on the subject, and I'll find out more then." I sigh heavily. "Ana, I think we need to make another appointment with Flynn." I speak cautiously, knowing we need to get back onto the original subject at some point tonight.

She nods against my shoulder. "I know," she whispers, tensing a bit. "I made an appointment with him on my way home tonight. Originally, it was for me alone, but I'd like you to be there."

"Oh." I hadn't realized she was considering speaking to anyone. "If you want a session on your own, we can make another one together," I tell her. "Though if you really want me to come with you, I won't argue."

"I just think we've got a lot that we're still not saying to each other, things we don't even realize are bothering us," she explains. "Flynn has a way of leading us to honest communication when we seem to be screwing that up."

"Whatever you want," I repeat, agreeing wholeheartedly with her words.

She snorts a laugh. "What I want is normalcy again," she says wryly. "Or at least as close to it as we ever get." Pulling away from my arms, she turns to face me, her expression serious as she debates her next words. "Christian, I want this to work for us. I want nothing more than for us to not worry about what the other person might be doing in our absence—whether it's you think I'm running or me thinking..." Her eyes avert from my gaze, and though I know how she was going to finish her sentence, I wait for her to do so. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as her eyes flutter shut briefly and a pained expression passes her face. "Or me thinking you're with another woman, whether it be Elena or someone else. I don't want to just wash my hands of our marriage and walk away only to realize later on that I failed somehow by not giving us this chance. At the same time, I'm fucking terrified of how little it would take for you to destroy me completely. I was close to it last night, but I managed to rein it in." She rolls her eyes. "Obviously, since I'm still here..."

"If anyone has failed, it's me," I tell her. "And I agree with everything you said. I do trust you, Ana. I don't trust myself not to hurt you so when you brushed me off this morning, I thought I really had ended us. I'm sorry."

"I know." She turns and moves next to me again. "In the meantime, I think we should probably make our way downstairs so you can see your son." Even as she speaks the words, she's snuggling into my side the way she used to when she was tired.

I smirk to myself. Despite us both taking a problem and blowing it up to the point that we were even more uncertain about our future than before, we're here together, mostly content, and we've actually done a decent job talking again. There's still a long way to go, but for the first time today, I feel positive.

And though I would love to see and play with my son before his bedtime, I don't know when Ana will let me hold her like this again, so I'm going to take advantage of it while I can.


	25. Chapter 25

"Morning, Daddy!"

I turn away from the stove, ripped from my thoughts of last night. Granted, the night didn't end with Christian and me in the throes of passion, but that didn't stop me from waking up with a smile. We sat on the floor together for hours, talking when we wanted to talk, taking comfort in each other's silent presence when we didn't. When we finally pushed ourselves off the floor, we spent a few minutes awkwardly trying to figure out where we stood after our talk. I actually think Christian was willing to leave the room without any sort of physical affection apart from having our arms around each other for hours. The fact that he didn't expect anything from me meant one of two things: either he's made a hell of a lot of progress or I've managed to break him completely. I think I'll stick with the former.

Regardless, I felt both of us needed something, whether it be reassurance or something else, I didn't know. Before I had time to second guess myself, I'd pressed Christian against the bedroom door and placed my lips against his. For once, I think I genuinely surprised him; it took him a moment to realize what was going on, and in the moments that followed was quite possibly the best kiss we've shared. I know I've probably said that before, but this was definitely in the top five. It certainly wasn't the most passionate we've shared. In fact, it was on the opposite end of the spectrum: slow and sweet and full of promise and apology and love. When we reluctantly said good night, I swear his eyes were glazed over and he had the goofiest grin on his face.

I was pretty proud of myself, actually.

Now though, I'm suddenly feeling shy again as he enters the kitchen in full Christian Grey work-mode. From his perfectly shined shoes to his always-just-fucked hair and the little smirk on his face, he looks... perfect.

"Morning, Teddy," he says, his voice still thick with sleep. He's smiling as he crosses the kitchen to kiss the top of our son's head then he looks to me, his smile widening. "Morning, Ana."

I turn away as I roll my eyes, biting my lip against a grin. "Morning, Christian." I flip the pancakes then the bacon, my eyes darting towards my right as Christian pours himself a cup of coffee and leans against the counter beside me. "Sleep well?"

He chuckles, bringing the cup to his lips. "Not bad," he mutters evasively, his eyes glinting in amusement. "You?"

I shrug indifferently. "Hungry?"

His eyebrows rise at my question and his glinting eyes darken. I only realize what it is I've said when I feel the blush growing up my neck. "Could be," he says thoughtfully.

"For breakfast," I blurt.

He's laughing. Actually laughing. I can't remember the last time I've seen him really and truly laugh. It's refreshing. "Of course," he says silkily, still snickering.

I roll my eyes at myself. Why is it always like this after we kiss lately? Part of me wants to believe it's more to do with us growing closer to one another after all the time apart or the progress we've been making. I can feel the wall between us cracking a little more with each of these conversations, despite the problems still hanging over us.

It's not a bad feeling...

I fix the plates for breakfast and join Christian and Teddy at the table, discovering Christian already prepared my tea for me. The fuzzy feelings are back. My subconscious has scoffed, rolled her eyes, and retreated, slamming a door in her wake. Whatever. Let me enjoy this win for a change.

"So I was thinking about inviting my parents over for dinner later this week," Christian says to me, mopping up a puddle of syrup with pancake.

"Oh?"

He nods, glancing at Teddy briefly. "I need to have a conversation with them," he says cautiously, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

I suck in a breath as I catch his meaning. " _That_ conversation?" I respond. He nods grimly. "Oh."

"It's going to be a pretty rough conversation," he tells me, looking nervous. "And I don't want to force you, but I think I'd like you to be with me. I have some things to say to you as well and I need to get it all out at once."

My eyes widen and suddenly I'm feeling just as nervous. "Okay," I say, nodding. "Let me know when they're coming over."

He looks relieved and rewards me with his sweet, shy smile. "Thank you," he whispers gratefully, reaching for my hand to kiss my knuckles. When he returns to eating his breakfast, he keeps my hand wrapped in his and I don't protest. As he finishes off his coffee, he sits back in his chair, a small smile on his face as he looks at me. "So I've been thinking about our second date. How about this weekend?"

A smile slowly grows across my face. "I was hoping it wouldn't be too long between dates," I tell him rather shyly. "I suppose you've got it all planned out?"

He beams proudly. "Possibly," he says evasively. "In the meantime, I've got mergers and acquisitions to tend to, so I should be going."

I nod, disappointed that the morning has already come to an end. "Don't forget our appointment with Flynn this evening. Do you want to meet there?"

He takes his plate and coffee cup to the sink, frowning slightly. "No, I'll come home first," he decides.

I smile, having hoped that would be what he said. Though it wouldn't be much trouble for me to meet him for our appointment, there's something to be said that he wants to take the time to come home and for us to go in together. It shows unity to me, a mutual dedication for us to fix our marriage.

I watch Christian say goodbye to Teddy for the day, promising some playtime after our appointment with Flynn then walk him outside. Taylor is waiting beside the SUV, determinedly looking anywhere but at us. I smirk to myself.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Grey," Christian says softly, drawing my attention again. When did he come to stand within inches of me? He reaches up to gently run his thumb over my bottom lip, making me gasp and him smirk. Despite knowing what's coming next, I find myself surprised when he leans down to press our lips together. It's a brief kiss, leaving both of us wanting more, but Christian pulls away, his eyes glazed over again.

"You, too, Mr. Grey," I respond, fully aware of the breathiness of my voice.

With a wink and smile, Christian turns on his heel and walks towards the SUV, glancing back at me only briefly as he closes the car door behind him. I watch and wait until the car disappears completely. I let out a groaning sigh before returning into my house to spend the day with my son.

* * *

"Ana and Christian. Please, have a seat."

My hand is against Ana's lower back as I guide her to the couch to sit, immediately taking her hand in my own and resting our joined hands on my leg. Flynn is looking at us in slight surprise, but hides it with a small smile.

"Well, I have to say this is a very different couple than the one I saw last time you were here," he comments, crossing one leg over the other and resting his tablet on it. "Dare I ask how things are going?"

I glance at Ana, smiling. She's smiling back. "Things are going very well," I say quietly, hoping she believes the same. "There's been a slight setback, but we managed to move on past that."

"Oh?" Flynn's interest is piqued. "And what setback was this?"

Ana sighs, her smile slipping slightly. She explains the incident with Kate at my parents' house and the almost immediate fallout from it. Listening to how we reacted to each other's lack of communication, I'm back to self-flagellation at how easily we reverted to that bad habit. It just goes to prove how much work it will take to get to where we want to be.

"What were you thinking when you came home from work to find your wife and son gone, Christian?" Flynn asks. "As well as when you realized they'd come home?"

My eyes close briefly and the coldness is returning at the thought of what I could have gone through that night. "Terrified," I croak. "I couldn't get in touch with her, couldn't find her, and I really believed I'd fucked up so badly that I drove her away again. I don't know how I would have been if she hadn't come home that night. I think it would have actually broken me. I wouldn't have any reason to go on. As for the realization they came home..." I shake my head in wonder. "It was the complete opposite feeling. The relief was overwhelming. All I wanted was to have her in my arms again. I felt undeserving of her and so desperately thankful that she was still there." I swallow hard, still feeling that same way. "I've never felt that way, in that extreme, and I never want to feel that way again."

"So you're more dedicated than ever to make this work," Flynn comments quietly.

"Yes," I say simply.

Flynn nods, turning his gaze on Ana. "What were your thoughts to Christian's reaction to you coming home?"

She sighs again. "Surprised," she says bluntly. "I thought somebody was hurt and in the hospital. He was trembling, actually trembling, and I didn't know what to do to make him feel better. All I could do was hold him. When we went upstairs to talk, and he told me what he thought had happened, I was relieved and I almost laughed. I certainly didn't mean to make him think I was running from him again; I didn't intentionally leave my phone at home. When I left the house to meet Kate and Ava, Teddy and I were in a rush and I forgot to grab it. I didn't even see his email until this afternoon."

"And how were you feeling yesterday towards Christian?"

"Angry, hurt, disappointed." She rattles off the words so quickly that I know she had lingered on those feelings. I squeeze her hand gently and she shoots me a brief smile. "I knew Kate had laid into him about the affair and the aftermath, and all I wanted was for him to talk to me. Even if he was angry, I felt he needed to open up and get it out. When he threw my own lack of communication in my face, it pissed me off. I didn't realize until the next morning he was right and I was being hypocritical about the whole thing."

Flynn looks pleased. "The fact that you both realized you were wrong and worked out the problem on your own is incredible progress. I know you two better than you think and I know only a year ago something like this would have been left to fester until one of you exploded on the other. How was your date this weekend?"

Ana and I are both smiling again. "Wonderful," Ana says before I can. "We flew to Portland in Charlie Tango, had dinner at the Heathman, saw a movie together, had coffee, and went home. I couldn't have asked for a better night."

"No pressure," I mutter, rolling my eyes exaggeratedly.

She giggles.

"Aside from the very interesting thought of seeing Christian Grey sitting in a movie theater full of common folk, what made it so wonderful? Specifically."

"I suppose," Ana starts slowly, "it was the effort he went through to recreate our beginning. Our first night together, he flew me in Charlie Tango. We had the same meal we had the evening at the Heathman when he was trying to convince me to become his submissive—which in itself wasn't my favorite memory, but it was still a very memorable night. The coffee was our very first date, before I knew what kind of relationship he was looking for with me. And the movie was another first for us. It's not something we've ever done together; we're more likely to spend the evening in our home theater room alone rather than surrounded by strangers. It really meant a lot to me that he stepped out of his comfort zone for me."

I'm feeling proud of myself suddenly.

"Why were those events the ones you chose to recreate, Christian?" Flynn asks me curiously. "From what I understood, you wished to start a new beginning with Ana. It doesn't seem like you've done that."

I start to bristle at the accusation, but I know Flynn's only trying to get deeper in our heads. "I do want a new beginning," I say firmly. "But at the same time, I wanted to remind Ana about what it was that brought us together in the first place. I wanted us to experience the things that meant so much to both of us. It might not have been the most creative date we've had, but I wanted to rediscover that connection."

"Did it work, Ana?"

I turn to see my wife's reaction. She's smiling, biting her lip, and looking up at me through her eyelashes. I fight not to groan aloud. "I think so," she says shyly. "It certainly ended at a high point..."

I chuckle. Flynn raises an eyebrow at me and I have the sudden urge to defend our actions. "It was a kiss," I explain. "A truly wonderful, beautiful, arousing kiss, but it went no further than that. I know we're not to the point where we could do anything more yet and until she's ready, we won't be going any further."

"Probably wise, all things considered," Flynn muses. "Have there been any other things you wanted to discuss?"

I look to Ana. This was her appointment originally, but when she extended the invitation to me, I didn't want to turn it down. She glances briefly at me before turning back to Flynn. "I'm having trouble getting past certain issues," she says cautiously, her brow furrowed. "As much as I want to trust him when he's at work, I still have the moments of doubt." Her eyes close briefly. "When I went looking for him before dinner when we were at his parents' house, and I found him and Kate together in a room with the door closed, I had a fleeting image of something I knew wasn't in the realm of possibility."

"What was that image?" Flynn asks. I don't want to hear her answer, knowing immediately what it will be, but she needs to say it out loud. I need to know what she's thinking.

"Even though I knew they'd been arguing, I couldn't help but think they were..." She hesitates, looking for a suitable phrase to use. "I thought there might have been something going on between them, that maybe they'd been having an affair together while I was in London." She turns to me, her face red. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head dumbly. "Don't be," I mutter coolly.

"Christian," Flynn chides. "This isn't the time to shut down."

There are times that I hate that he knows me so well. "I'm not shutting down," I lie. "Ana, I can't blame you for being suspicious, but I swear to you I wouldn't put you through that again. Let's forget for a moment that Kate and I can barely be I the same room together without tension... She doesn't and has never attracted me in that way."

"I know," she says quickly. "And it's not that I think there's a possibility that you and Kate would throw aside your mutual dislike to start screwing each other. It's the fact that the affair is still so fresh in my mind that I can't help the suspicion."

"That's normal, Ana," Flynn interjects. "It will take time for you to trust Christian fully again. And while I don't want to side with either of you on this issue, I would like to say that I really believe Christian is turning over a new leaf and that I don't believe he will stray again. From the first time the two of you stepped through that door together," he gestures with his pen at the office door, "I knew there was something special between you, something that could get you through anything. More than anything, I want to see the two of you succeed, as I've said before. And I believe the way Ana handled her friend's interference into your marriage wonderfully. There are only two people who need to be involved—Christian and Ana. Naturally, you're free to consult anybody you wish about your problems, but that should be something initiated by you, nobody else. That includes me. I will not pry any deeper in your lives than you wish me to and if either of you feels as though I am overstepping my bounds, please call me on it."

Ana and I nod in acknowledgement.

"Having said that, I think we need to discuss Elena Lincoln."

I feel Ana's entire body tense and the grip she had on my hand go limp. Panic fills my veins, but I think I'm successful in hiding it. "What about her?" I ask.

"Christian, over the years as I've gotten to know you, I've noticed Elena is a recurring event in your life. I know most of the people in your life who are even slightly aware of the nature of your relationship with her have told you she's detrimental to your life and your marriage. I don't want to get too far into details and risk upsetting either of you, but in order for you to move forward with Ana, you need to acknowledge the toxicity of your relationship with Elena."

I nod heavily. "I know," I say hoarsely. And I do. "I know I shouldn't go to her whenever things aren't going right for me in my life, but she always seems to pop up when I most need a confidant. Whatever her reasoning for reestablishing contact with me I always end up telling her far more about my personal life than I should."

"You shouldn't have been telling her anything," Ana snaps, surprising me. I don't think she meant to interrupt, but she probably couldn't remain quiet anymore. "Yes, we were having problems, but I should have been your confidant—if not me, then John or Elliot, or hell, your mother! After everything she's done and said to you, the fact that you haven't realized that she wants nothing more than to destroy our marriage is frightening. You've told me over and over that you're not her submissive and you haven't been since you were in your early twenties, but the second she tries to pry, you're dropping to your knees and giving her whatever she wants, however she wants it. It may not be sexual, but it's still cheating. You've been having emotional affairs with that woman all throughout our marriage, and that's almost worse than a sexual one."

I'm staring at my wife in shock. How long has she been holding that in? Not that she's wrong on any count... "You're right," I tell her honestly. "Theoretically, I know she's toxic and our relationship is abusive. I know she's in control of that. Believe me; I know I need wash my hands of her for good. The last thing in the world I want is for my son to grow up and end up in the same sort of situation. It would kill me, and then I would kill the person who's put him in that situation. I want to be a positive role model for my son, like my dad was for me, despite our relationship being so strained for much of the time."

"I want that, too," Ana admits. "More than anything. He's young enough right now that if we manage to fix this, he won't remember any of it."

Flynn nods his agreement. "Very good point, Ana," he says quietly. "But as I've told you both, you don't want try to fix your marriage for your son's sake. It has to be because you each want it and each of you is putting one-hundred percent into changing your relationship for the better. I'm not a marriage counselor, but if you'd like, I can arrange for you to see one. It could be beneficial."

I look at Ana questioningly; she's considering the option. In the end, we take a business card for an associate of his, say our goodbyes, and walk out of the office hand-in-hand. Unlike our last visit with Flynn, we're both smiling as we get into the car. She's still holding my hand as we start the drive home, deciding on ordering a pizza for dinner and watching a movie or two with our son.

I couldn't have asked for a better session than the one we experienced this evening. We both put several things out on the table that normally might have us glaring at one another. This won't be the last time we discuss Elena—in fact, we'll be doing it again in a couple nights when my parents come for dinner. And somehow, I don't think that session will end on nearly as high a note...

* * *

When Christian arrived home from work this afternoon, I felt tension running off him in waves. I know it's not directed towards me, or even his business, but towards what is coming this evening. Carrick and Grace are joining us for dinner. I've given Gail the evening off and decided to cook myself. After dinner, after Teddy is in bed, I know exactly what will happen: Christian is going to come clean about his relationship with Elena. Carrick already knows to some extent, but Grace is clueless. I know the last thing Christian wants to do is hurt his mother further than he has by lying about why I left him. She needs to know, though; things will start coming to the surface soon and it will be better for her to hear it from Christian himself.

It still doesn't stop him from being incredibly nervous.

I throw the lasagna I've prepared for dinner into the oven, set a timer, and head off to find Christian. He's sitting on the back deck, glancing occasionally to where Teddy is playing in the yard, while the rest of the time, he's staring at the ground broodingly. I sit down beside him, scooting sideways until we're pressed together, and take his hand in mine. He looks at our hands, then at me, in pleasant surprise.

"Hi," he says quietly.

"Hi." I smile at him. "It'll be okay."

"I wish I believed that," he admits. "My mom is going to be so pissed."

I nod in agreement. "Probably," I say. "But she needs this, Christian. So do you."

"What about you?" he asks, cocking his head curiously. "Do you need this or will this only make things worse?"

I sigh, actually thinking about the answer, knowing he's terrified about it. "I want to say it won't make things worse," I respond carefully, "but I honestly don't know. I want to believe you've told me everything there is to tell me about this whole thing. But until it's over, I can't. I promised you I'd be by your side through this conversation, because I know it's not going to be easy for you. And by doing this, I could be opening myself up to god knows what."

"I really honestly believe I've told you everything there is to tell you, Ana," he says emphatically. "If there is something else, it's something I'm not even privy to, in which case I apologize now for whatever you might hear."

I giggle. "Never a good sign when you apologize ahead of time for some unspoken threat," I tell him, trying to lighten the situation. Inwardly, I'm desperately hoping there is nothing else, because I don't know if I could handle it.

Teddy runs towards us and we stand, heading back inside to prepare for the evening. I get Teddy changed out of his play clothes and arrive downstairs just in time for the doorbell to ring. I glance above me suddenly when I hear a crash in what I think is Christian's bathroom. I hear a shout of "I'm okay," and continue towards the door. The next few minutes are filled with Teddy greeting his eager grandparents and general conversation, until Christian comes downstairs. I watch as Christian says hello to his parents, his father a little more stiffly and formally than I'm used to seeing, and Grace has clearly sensed the tension between the two of them, but judging by the pursing of her lips, she doesn't know what's going on.

Dinner conversation is casual and tense at the same time. Neither Christian nor Carrick speak much, leaving the discussion topics up to Grace and me. Those subjects revolve around her anecdotes about the hospital or me talking about Teddy. After dessert, we move into the family room until it's time for Teddy's bedtime. I'm almost overly enthusiastic about taking him up to his room, and Grace accompanies me. I know she wants to ask what's going on with Christian and Carrick, but she doesn't. Instead, we prepare my son for bed, read him his story, and kiss him goodnight before returning to the family room and our husbands.

Christian jumps up eagerly at the sight of us and goes to the bar to prepare drinks for all of us. Grace takes hers with a resigned look on her face, clearly realizing the drink has been given to her for fortifying reasons. Christian sits down beside me on the loveseat across from the couch where his parents are sitting, takes a deep breath, then a deeper drink of his brandy.

"Before I begin," he says quietly, looking between his parents, "I need all three of you to know how sorry I am for hurting you over the years." He turns towards me first. "Ana, I've put you through hell and like I said in Flynn's office, I feel indescribably undeserving of you, your love, and your attention. I'm doing everything possible to prove I want and need you in my life, for the _rest_ of my life. Please continue to be patient with me—I'm trying so hard, and this..." he gestures vaguely towards his parents, "is part of that."

I nod, glancing at his parents as they watch us closely. "I know," I tell Christian quietly. "I know you're trying. And it means everything to me that you are."

He sighs in relief before tearing his eyes from me to look at Carrick. "Dad. I haven't been the greatest son in the world and I know I've probably aged you more quickly than you would have done without the stress I bring. Despite our differences, I appreciate what you've done for me, even when I've said otherwise."

Carrick nods. "Thank you, Christian," is his only response.

I see Christian's face fall slightly before he manages to hide it behind his mask again, so he turns to his mother. "And Mom..." I swear his voice breaks. "I can never tell you what you mean to me. You saved me. You took me out of a situation that could have led me down a disastrous path. You loved me even when it would have been easier to turn your back on me. The things I plan on telling you tonight... They're not going to be easy to hear and probably very upsetting, because I've broken a promise to you." Grace's face goes from touched to confused to hard in a matter of seconds, and it's clear she's worked out what's going on. Christian sighs shakily. "I've seen Elena after I said I wouldn't."

Grace stares hard at her son for a few minutes. "And when you say you've 'seen' her, I don't suppose you mean passing her on the street," she says coldly.

Christian shakes his head. "No. I mean even after seeing her the night Ana told me she was pregnant and swearing to you it wouldn't happen again, I've renewed our relationship on and off. We cut ties for a couple years after Teddy was born, but started speaking again a few months ago. She was hoping for an investor for a new business opportunity, though as it turns out, that was a ploy. She used the money I gave her to invest in the publishing house Anastasia was working for in London, which is the real reason Ana's decided to come home."

"How much?" Grace asks.

"Three million."

Carrick chokes on his drink and Grace stares at her son as though she's never seen him before and he's the vilest thing on the planet. "What?" she demands.

Christian only nods. "When I gave it to her, I told her it would be the last time I gave her a dime and she was to never contact me again. She lied to me about the uses she intended to use the money for and had me believing she was in serious financial trouble."

"So why help her?" Carrick snaps.

I brace myself for angry Christian who will start yelling at his father, but much to my surprise, it's deeply contrite Christian I see sitting beside me.

"I've been trying to come up with a suitable answer to that question," Christian says quietly. "And I've yet to come up with one. I could tell you it's because there's still a connection between us and I have a soft spot for her—albeit a very small one. I could say I felt sorry for her or that it felt good to be able to have some sort of power and control over her. It doesn't matter what I say, though, because it's not good enough to justify hurting my family the way I have. I'm currently working on booting her out of my life permanently, and I swear to all three of you, once it's done, that will be the last I hear from Elena Lincoln."

Despite his apologetic tone in the beginning, the tone has become hardened and I can't help but believe his every word. He's said them before, and I was skeptical every time, because his actions proved he hadn't meant them. Now though, with him looking at the mother who raised him, the woman he worshipped for saving him as a small child, I think he finally gets it. God, I hope so...

Grace hasn't said a word in several minutes and it's clearly starting to make Christian nervous. It's not long before she sets aside her untouched brandy and stands. "Carrick, we should go," she says quietly, not looking at me or her son. Christian's face shows sudden panic and fear. "Ana, thank you for dinner. It was delicious. We'll see you soon."

I look between Christian and Grace uncertainly then look at Carrick who seems just as bemused as I'm feeling. He gives me a slight apologetic shrug before leading his wife to the foyer where he helps her into her coat. I see them out and return to find Christian still sitting in the exact same spot where I left him, still staring at the spot where Grace had sat. I've never seen him looking so lost and vulnerable, like a little boy who just lost his mother. The irony of the thought isn't lost on me, but I cross the room to kneel in front of him and place my hands on my knees.

"Christian?" I say quietly.

He looks up at me slowly, desolately. "She hates me, Ana," he whispers, sounding just as a small child would. "I actually managed to make her hate me."

"No, Christian," I argue, pushing myself up enough to press against him. I take his face into my hands, trying not to crumble at the tears that fill his eyes. "Baby, she doesn't hate you. She's disappointed, probably a little angry with you, but she's your mother, and your mother can never hate you. Please believe me."

"I want to," he says, his voice cracking.

"Then do," I insist. "It doesn't matter what Teddy might do to upset me; I could never stop loving my child. He's everything to me. And you're everything to Grace. Just give her time and space, then talk to her. It'll be okay."

He nods. "I'd like to go to sleep, Ana."

I sigh, defeated. "Please don't shut me out, Christian," I beg.

I see a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not shutting you out, baby," he assures me. "I just need to sleep on this before figuring out how to deal with it. I promise I will tell you everything I'm feeling once I've gotten myself wrapped around it."

Feeling disappointed nonetheless, I nod. "Okay," I reply. "Sleep, then."

He pulls me up as he stands, wrapping me in his arms. "Thank you, Ana. For staying with me during that conversation, for still loving me, and for everything else you do. I love you."

With a brief kiss to my lips, he releases me and heads upstairs, leaving me feeling sad for him and hoping Grace's anger doesn't extend for too long.


	26. Chapter 26

I'm lying in bed, surrounded by darkness, staring at the ceiling, and unable to get the vision of my mother's face out of my mind. I've seen her angry with me. I've seen her disappointed by my actions. I've seen her hurt by the things I'd said to her. But all of those times, she's let the emotion go somehow—crying, yelling, lecturing. Tonight was much worse. She looked positively devastated by what I told her and she didn't even acknowledge me. Wouldn't look me in the eye as she left with my dad. I was in shock, with the old feelings of loss and abandonment returning with a vengeance.

Of all the things I've done over the years, this wasn't the one I believed would push her over the edge of hating me. I knew if I wasn't careful one of these days something would happen outside my control and it would come back to Grace.

 _Not really out of your control, Grey..._ _It was your choice to continue seeing Elena. Your choice to confide in her when you were having a rough time in your marriage—what was it Ana called it? Emotional affair. It was your choice to let Elena and Lucy worm their way into your brain. You've broken the hearts of your wife and your mother—the two women who always meant most to you, the two women who saved you from the darkness. They loved you unconditionally, yet it wasn't enough to satisfy you. How long's it going to be before you make Ana hate you just as much as Grace does right now?_

I close my eyes tightly, willing the image of Ana looking at me—or _not_ looking at me—the same way Grace did tonight to leave my mind.

No. I have to find a way to fix this. I can't lose either of them. And once this is over, if Grace and Ana don't hunt Elena down and kill the bitch themselves, I might just have to take care of it. I'm so fucking done.

I feel myself drifting off to sleep, after listening to Ana's shuffling out in the hall, the turning on and off of lights, and her brief hesitation outside my bedroom door. I thought she might come in, try to talk to me again, but she didn't. I know I need to tell her what's on my mind. And I will. But I couldn't deal with it right after watching my mother leave the room without even a glance in my direction. I have to figure out what to do about this—do I call Grace as soon as possible or give her a couple days to calm down? Or do I wait for her to contact me? What if she doesn't? What if this was enough for her to realize just how fucked up I am?

At some point in the night, I'm startled awake by a tentative knock on the door. I glance at the clock and find it's nearly two in the morning—apparently I managed to drift off to sleep. I know who's knocking, but before I get a chance to call for her to enter, the door slowly opens.

"Christian?" Ana is glancing around the door, whispering.

"I'm awake," I say drowsily. "Come in."

She hesitates briefly before entering and closing the door behind her. We're both silent as she crosses the room to the bed and feels around on the bed to see if there's enough room for her to lie down. I scoot over a little and she climbs in. "I just want to see if you're okay," she says quietly.

I shake my head in the dark. "Not really," I admit.

I see her sympathetic smile as she slides down in the bed, turning onto her side to face me. I gasp slightly when I feel the backs of her fingertips tracing my jaw. "Just give her time," she whispers. "It was a lot to take in, Christian."

"Doesn't help that she's still pissed that I had an affair," I mutter bitterly.

Ana nods a little. "No, probably not," she concedes. "But she's your mom. She loved you from the day she saw you and nothing you can do will change that."

"How do you know that, though?" I challenge. "How do you know this isn't the final straw? After all the times I've disappointed her or hurt her feelings..." I shake my head miserably. "I'm not a good son. I'm not a good husband. I'm not a good father. Fuck, I'm not a good _person!_ "

She sighs heavily. "Christian, enough with the self-loathing bullshit already," she says firmly, her voice rising from her previous whisper slightly. "You fucked up. Face it like a man. I know goddamn well this isn't how you handle a bad business deal. You wouldn't be where you are if you just curled up and felt sorry for yourself anytime someone didn't agree to your terms." I'm staring at her wide-eyed as she pushes herself off the bed and crosses her legs. "Christian, if I could forgive you for what you've done to me, then your mother will forgive you for this. She just needs time."

I'm frozen in place. There is no way I heard that correctly. "You... forgive me?" I breathe.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. "Of all the things I just said, why am I surprised that's the one thing you picked up on..." She sighs again. "Yes, I forgive you," she whispers. "It doesn't mean I've forgotten everything that's happened or the pain you put me through, but if we're going to move forward, we need to start letting go of the past. There's still a pretty good amount of hurt. That is going to take a while for me to let go. But I think I decided some time ago that I would get here. Tonight just solidified that decision. You still have a lot to tell Grace and Carrick. And there is still a lot you and I both need to improve on. But I think the only thing that will keep us going the way we are and improving on that is giving you my forgiveness."

I have no words to describe how I feel right now. Relieved. Ecstatic. Overwhelmed. I know I need to say something right now, but I don't know what that should be. I settle on reaching out and pulling her into my arms so her head is resting against my heart—I'm hoping the rapid beating might be able to tell her more than anything I can say. She puts her arms around my waist, relaxing against me. I'm home. Really home for the first time in years. My breathing is shallow and erratic. This woman lying against me is everything. She's my life. She's my light. There is nobody else in the world that can replace her. I am a bastard of the worst possible variety for ever thinking otherwise. With her, I don't need anything else. I don't need any _body_ else. I should be worshipping the ground she walks on and the air she breathes. I now know that I will spend the rest of my life proving to her that I'm worthy of her love. Because that's what she's saying me forgiving me, right? That she loves me.

"Thank you," I breathe into her hair. It's not enough, I know. But if I say anything more, it'll be garbled and nonsensical, and she deserves more than that from me.

But when she looks up at me, I know she gets my real meaning. She smiles. "You're welcome." With that, she puts her head back onto my chest. And with her in my arms, I'm able to fall asleep and stay asleep for the first time in months.

* * *

Over the next few days, despite Grace's less than warm reception of Christian's admission that only scratched the surface of what he really needed to say, I think I can honestly say I haven't been happier in years. Christian is smiling almost every time I see him. He volunteers information about his day as well as how he's feeling and what he's thinking. I almost want to ask what the catch is. Then I remind myself that by forgiving him, I also need to start letting go of my suspicions.

Besides, if I don't, it will undoubtedly ruin whatever it is Christian has planned for our second date this evening. I'm giddy—actually giddy—and nervous as I try to figure out what we'll be doing. All Christian would say was to dress comfortably. He's been home from work for nearly two hours now, and in that time, I've seen him for probably five minutes altogether.

We haven't heard a word from Carrick or Grace since they left the other night. Christian is still a little on edge about it, but his outlook overall is positive. I asked him about his plans to rid our lives of Elena Lincoln for good. All he would tell me is that once his plans see fruition, it will be permanent. When I asked him _how_ permanent, he actually laughed—assuming correctly that I thought he'd had plans to have her killed... Not that I can find it in myself to be against that plan... He didn't want to say much yet, since the plans he has need to be kept under wraps for the time being, lest it somehow get back to Elena. Almost immediately after telling me that, he quickly amended his words, assuring me he wasn't concerned about me telling anybody. He just doesn't want to jinx his plans. For the most part, I understand that and I will happily sit on the sidelines and wait for the results.

"Ana?"

I look up from where I'm staring at my shoes with a rather malicious grin on my face at the thought of what he has up his sleeve, then climb from my bed to my feet. "Up here, Christian!" I call back. I quickly grab a jacket, assuming he's coming up to collect me for our date—the one I've been thinking about almost nonstop for days—and as I step out of the room, I see him walking towards me with his boyish smile in place.

"Hi," he says quietly, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on my lips. "Are you ready?"

I smile widely. "More than ready," I respond, trying to refrain from dancing in place.

"Really?" His tone is suggestive and his smile changes to match it. "Interesting..."

I roll my eyes at him, pushing him away slightly. "Mind out of the gutter, Grey," I say to him, heading down the hallway.

"Not possible with you around, Mrs. Grey," he tells me as he catches up and grabs my hand in his. "Especially when you look so beautiful."

I glance down at my jeans and sweater then up at Christian with a raised eyebrow. He's smiling knowingly. "I think you're biased," I tell him dryly.

He chuckles. "Probably," he says. "Does it matter?"

Biting back a smile, I shake my head. "No, not really."

He stops in the hallway and turns to face me. "Stop biting that lip, Mrs. Grey," he murmurs darkly, pulling my lip from my teeth and softly rubbing his thumb against it.

"Why's that, Mr. Grey?" I try to ask coyly.

He only raises his eyebrow and smirks. "I think you know..." He turns away again, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the stairs. I start towards the front door, but Christian heads towards the kitchen, confusing me even further as we exit through the backdoor and walk down onto the lawn.

"Christian, where are we going?" I ask as we continue walking until we're nearly at the shoreline.

"Here." He stops just in front of a large blanket with a picnic basket in one corner, an unlit candle in the center, and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of wine.

I take it all in slowly and realize belatedly that Christian is watching my expression closely, and his face is falling.

"You don't like it?" he asks, looking dejected.

"No, Christian!" I say quickly. "It's great! Really. It's just..."

"Not what you expected," he finishes. "Perhaps you were looking for something a little more extravagant?"

I glare at him, noting his suddenly teasing tone. "Okay, well, I expected to have at least left the property," I respond, letting him help me onto the blanket. He sits down beside me, grinning. "Admittedly, it's not really like you to go with such simplicity. That doesn't mean I don't like it."

"Fair enough," he concedes, reaching for the wine bottle and two glasses. "So out of curiosity, what were you expecting?"

I'm blushing as I think over all the things I envisioned might be happening tonight, none of which included a picnic on our property beside the water overlooking the sunset. "I don't know," I tell him, accepting my wine glass. "With you, I never know. Considering our last date was a flight in Charlie Tango to Portland for dinner at the Heathman, I suppose I thought about soaring."

He's beaming at me then his smile turns more suggestive. "Soaring or _sore_ -ing?" he asks, before bursting into laughter at my burning face while I try to glare. It's not long before I'm laughing with him at the memory he's brought to mind. Once we both sober enough to have an actual conversation again, he's got a serious expression on his face again. "As much as I enjoy flaunting my money and impressing you with the extravagance only I can provide you, I also know how much you tend to enjoy the more simple things. And when you're involved, I enjoy them, too."

I muse that only Christian Grey could inject confidence, egotism, and sweetness into one sentence, but I'm also grinning. "Somehow, I'm expecting this to have a bit of Christian Grey flare to it," I tell him.

Now he's got his shy expression, the boyish sweet smile that makes him look his actual age rather than the cold CEO persona he portrays at work. "I'll have to see what I can do then," he says simply, clinking his glass against mine.

We settle on the blanket and spend the next hour or so talking. The sun is only beginning to set and it seems Christian has a schedule he's keeping us to as it lowers in the horizon. From the basket, he removes a bowl filled with dinner rolls and sets them down, then another bowl full of salad. He dishes out the salad onto small plates, drops a roll onto each then hands me one. I refrain from any one of the smart mouth questions that come to mind about what I'm supposed to do with the plate in my hands, and start eating.

As we eat, we talk. We discuss our son and getting him enrolled in a local preschool—it's taken this long for us to even consider the option after what happened in London. He tells me about work and the new girl working in the lobby who's yet to learn Christian isn't up for idle chitchat first thing in the morning and certainly not about her cat, Bonkers. He's trying to glare at my laughter at his story, but it doesn't lessen my amusement in the slightest. I can't remember the last time we sat like this, joking, carefree, teasing.

I know a lot of it has to do with me telling him I forgive him for the affair. I've spent weeks thinking about it—whether it was too early, whether I was putting my faith in a man who had so thoroughly broken my heart less than a year ago, whether I would just be setting myself up for more hurt. The more I dwelled on everything, the more I realized Christian and I have both been holding back so much and it's because he's walking on eggshells around me, because he's afraid that one wrong move will send me running, while I'm worried about learning some new deep dark secret he's been keeping from me or chasing him away into the arms of somebody else. And I realized that if all our focus is on our fears and concerns, we're not moving forward like we say we want. Giving him my forgiveness pushes aside so many barriers between us, allowing us to get back to Christian and Ana. We've still got a lot of work ahead of us and I'm not going to ignore it just because I've forgiven him, but we need this.

Fuck it. I'll say it.

 _I need this_. I need to know I can forgive him. I need to know I can get past what he's done. I need to know I can trust him again.

Call it selfish if you want. My husband had a five-month affair during which he allegedly fell in love with his mistress. Not to mention he kept in touch with his ex-child molester who takes every fucking chance she can to ruin our lives, even after promising me six ways to Sunday he'd never see or speak to her again. If that hasn't earned me the right to be selfish, I don't know what will.

"What are you thinking about?"

I jump guiltily, turning to find Christian resting on one elbow, facing me, his brow furrowed as he scrutinizes my expression. "Nothing," I say quickly, reflexively. When he raises his eyebrows pointedly, I sigh. "Okay, not nothing, obviously... I was just thinking how nice it is that we're sitting here even after everything that's happened. And 'nice' doesn't even come close to really covering it."

"More like miraculous," Christian mutters out loud, still watching me as I mirror his position on the blanket. I nod. "Ana, you have given me so much recently—your forgiveness being chief among them—and I feel as though I've given you nothing in return. Before you argue," he pauses as I open my mouth to do just that, "a couple dates don't even come close to showing you how infinitely grateful I am to still have you in my life. Hell, a couple months ago, I was convinced we were done for good. And that was _before_ you handed me that fucking separation agreement. Of course I wasn't going to stop fighting for you, not until my last dying breath, but if you had actually gone through with filing for separation officially, followed by divorce papers..." He closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as though he's in pain. When his eyes reopen, they are filled with such sadness, regret, and pain that my heart clenches. "As much as I didn't want to lose you, I would have let you go if that was what you wanted. And even though I don't believe I'm worthy of your forgiveness and your love if that's what you're offering me, I'm going to damn well take it, and every second for the rest of my life, I will find some way to earn everything you're giving me right now. All I can hope is that in the end I'm able to give you even a tenth of what you've given me."

"It's not a contest, Christian," I chide him, shaking my head minutely.

He smiles. "I know. But I have a lot more to earn—your trust, your love, your heart... You've got mine, baby. All of it. Everything I have now, everything I will have in the future. It's yours. In fact..." He sits up suddenly, reaching for the basket and pulling out a manila folder before turning back to me, looking acutely nervous. "Here."

I tentatively take the folder he thrusts at me. "What is this?" I ask reluctantly. He doesn't reply, instead staring intently at the folder with his brow furrowed. With a sigh, I open it and blink several times in confusion. I'm staring at a stack of what looks to be legal paperwork and it takes me several read-throughs to understand what it is I'm looking at. "Christian. No..."

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before moving back to sit right beside me. "Yes, Ana," he says softly.

"Why are you giving me this?" I can't bring myself to look away from the papers to meet his eyes.

"Because I've been trying to think of a way to show you that I'm committed to repairing everything I've destroyed between us," he tells me quietly. "Because I want you to know that without you at my side, I have nothing and there is no value to my life. Everything I work for is worthless without your love. And now I'm giving you the power to take everything from me if I ever hurt you again. Having said that, I have no intention of ever hurting you again."

I finally drag my eyes up to meet his. "Christian, I don't want this." I thrust the folder back into his hands, wanting as far from me as possible.

He gives me a small smile. "I know," he says. "And it's for that exact reason that I need you to have it. Despite what people have said over the years, I've never once believed you were with me because of what I have or what I can give you. Every other woman I've been with has been attracted by my money. They all wanted something materialistic from me. All you ever asked of me is me. It's taken me years to accept that; my biggest fear all along is that once you realized underneath the thin layer of what little decency I might have is a soulless, heartless, cruel bastard, you'd take whatever you needed from me and run and I'd never see you or Teddy again."

I'm staring at him in horror, unable to believe he could think so little of me. "That's says a hell of a lot more about you than it does me," I say heatedly.

"I know," he says calmly. "Believe me, I know. Ana, you've always been a better person than I could ever be and I will spend the rest of my life wondering why the fuck you would settle for a man who could so easily take you for granted and throw away everything you've given him."

"The answer's easy, Christian," I say, trying and failing not to sound exasperated. I take a deep breath to give him the answer, but he interrupts me.

"Because you love me," he says, smiling widely. "Baby, I know the answer. I just can't figure out why. It's taken me far too long to truly believe it: you love me as much as I love you. Probably a little more considering what I've put you through and the fact that you're still here."

"You didn't believe it before?" I ask indignantly. How much else could I have done to show him what he meant to me? I gave him everything. I gave him more.

He shrugs. "I did to a point," he admits. "But the more we fought and the farther we pushed each other away, the more I wondered. I'm going to sound like a shit saying this, but I believed that if you really loved me, you'd stop defying me, stop fighting me all the time. If you loved me like you said you did, you'd agree to everything I asked of you. I came to a realization after you left me that if you turned into that woman, the one that submits to my every whim and every desire, and didn't fight me on everything, you wouldn't be the girl I fell in love with. The girl who challenged and changed me. The girl I worshipped and couldn't get enough of to the point I chased her across the country, because I couldn't stand the thought of being away from her for an entire week. The beautiful, sweet, brilliant, innocent, perfect girl I had to have no matter what it took.

"Ana, the first time you told me you were in love with me, which was incidentally the same day you left me..." He pauses, swallowing hard at the memory. "It was both the best and worst moment of my life. The best because someone so incredible could see past my persona to something I didn't even know existed within me. The worst because I thought the only thing that would come of it would be your eventual heartache and pain, and I wouldn't be able to live with that. When that became reality, when you took our son and left me, it snapped me out of everything I'd been thinking and feeling, and I realized I couldn't go on like I had been.

"I don't know if this is something you want to hear, but whether you believe it or not, I do understand the effect Elena has had on my life to now. She abused me. She tortured me. She introduced me to something I thought I needed to function in life and business. I don't know what would have happened to me if she hadn't seduced me—maybe I would have ended up in prison or on drugs like she said I would; maybe not. Maybe I would have found my own way to starting GEH. Maybe I would have still met you. I don't know. The what-ifs don't matter at this point. What matters is that I don't want that bitch in my life again. Ever. I don't give a fuck about what she might be planning or whether she needs a loan for some fucking ridiculous venture. If I ever see her again, if she ever comes near you or Teddy, I will fucking destroy her. I let her into my head, let her manipulate something that could have been a short-lived thing. Before Elena got involved, I was close to ending things with Lucy. I had a brief moment of clarity—far too brief, I know—where I saw what would happen if I continued the affair with Lucy. I knew I would lose you. And as much as I don't want to continue blaming other people for my own stupid actions, I know Elena was a factor in pushing things as far as they went. I thought I needed Elena in my life for a myriad of reasons that don't matter at this point. You were right about what you said in Flynn's office, about me still being Elena's submissive. She calls, I come running. And I honestly didn't see anything wrong with that, which only makes it worse. I don't want that. I don't need that. I need you. I want you.

"Probably the worst thing that happened while you were gone was my realization of exactly what I lost. I didn't have somebody challenging me or pushing my limits. I didn't have somebody to defy me. I didn't have somebody I could relax with and laugh with, someone who could tease me without a second thought. Everyone around me is constantly on tenterhooks. They're terrified and intimidated by me. You don't take my shit. And I love that about you. You stand up to me, put me in my place. When we're good, we're fantastic, and I want the fantastic for the rest of my life. I want you for the rest of my life. I told you once that you had all the power in our relationship. That's still true, though perhaps not in the way I meant it originally. This," he shows me the folder, "is to prove just how much power you hold over me, Ana. Not just personally, but in every aspect of my life. You have the power to destroy me in every way. If you leave again, everything goes with you. I'll end up living in poverty again and I'll have deserved it. It's not emotional blackmail; it's plain truth. So please, take this."

I resignedly take the folder back from him, looking at the paperwork again. He's put GEH and everything it comes along with in my name. Christian's name is nowhere in these documents. Everything is mine. From the building of Grey House to our own house to Charlie Tango. He's kept nothing for himself. It means if I ever leave him again, he really and truly is left with nothing. How is this not emotional blackmail?

"Day-to-day, nothing changes," he goes on. "I'm still CEO. You have no responsibility unless you want it. Call it your insurance policy against your bastard husband."

Finally, it seems like he's finished his speech. And I don't know what to think. My mind is in absolute overdrive, bordering on overload. Part of me wants to punch him for doing something so ridiculous and foolish. The rest of me wants to tackle him to the blanket and kiss him until we're both breathless. I do neither. "So theoretically, if I sign this," I turn to the very last page to where I see my name printed just below a blank line. Christian's name and another line are beside them, "I could close your businesses, destroy everything you've worked for in your adult life, and ruin chances of every rebuilding even a fraction of it?"

I expect to see him frown or look even the least bit concerned about my words, but he has a grin on his face. "Theoretically, yes, you could," he says thoughtfully. "But you won't."

His voice is so full of confidence that it almost annoys me. I raise a challenging eyebrow. "How do you know, Christian? You broke my heart, took away everything I believed in... Now you're giving me all this power, you're not concerned that I'm going to take advantage of it as revenge?" I ask incredulously.

His eyes soften along with his smile. "Baby, you're a lot of things, but vindictive bitch isn't one of them," he says gently.

"How could you know that?" I demand. "I was gone for seven months, Christian, and even before that, you stopped trying to know me."

He rolls his eyes and bites his lips against a grin. "Ana, I know that, because I'm the vindictive one in this relationship. I'm ruthless, I'm cruel. I'm heartless. You're none of those things and you could never be. As for you destroying everything I've worked for..." He shakes his head, setting aside the folder to take my hands. "You are the last person in the world who would ever betray me. I've always known that, Anastasia. I should have been the last person in the world that would ever betray you. I could tell you again how sorry I am, but you're probably sick of hearing it—"

"Stop," I interrupt. "Enough with this being the worst person on the face of the planet shit, Christian. I mean it. I forgave you for the affair with Lucy. I'm trying to forgive you for everything that went on with you and Elena, but I can't do that if you're just running yourself down all the time. Everything you've said tonight..." I shake my head in wonder. "Christian, I've wanted to hear you say those things for _years_. And I desperately hope for the sake of our marriage that you're not just saying what you think I want to hear. I need you to mean every word."

"I do," he tells me firmly. "I've thought these things sporadically over the years, but I always dismissed them as bullshit. I get it now, Ana. I do. Please believe me."

I want to. God, do I ever want to... And I refuse to dwell on the subject of Elena and Lucy right now. Instead I think about what he's trying to give me. Despite our uncertain future together, he trusts me with everything he has. I want to be able to trust him as much. At one time, I did. I want to tell him this is a really bad idea, but at the same time I think this might be a good way to regain my trust for him. Right now I have no fucking clue how that might work out.

Fuck it.

"So do you have a pen in the basket somewhere?" I ask quietly.

His eyes widen and I have the feeling he didn't think I would actually agree to this. I watch him closely, half-expecting to take back the whole thing. He beams at me as he reaches for a pen in his pants pocket, holding it out to me.

"You're sure about this?" I ask him, trying to give him one more chance to rethink.

"The only thing I've been more certain about is when I asked you to marry me," he says with such certainty that I'm momentarily stunned. "I trust you, Anastasia. With everything I am, everything I have, and everything I will ever be."

The next thing I know, I'm signing my name on the line, fully aware that what started out as our second date, a night that was supposed to be carefree and romantic has turned into a business deal. I feel like we should stand, shake hands, and walk away from each other. I hand the papers back to Christian, not wanting to meet his eyes lest he see the tears building up in mine. It's a ridiculous reaction. I agreed to this. I could have told him no and we could have gone on with our dinner.

 _So now that you've signed that paperwork, you can't go on with your dinner?_ asks my subconscious.

"I realize I've blindsided you with this," Christian says, setting aside his folder and giving me his full attention. "It wasn't my intention—"

"So you've been carrying that paperwork around all week?" I ask wryly.

He smiles. "No. I meant to leave it in my study before our date, but you distracted me, and I forgot all about it. Please don't let this ruin our night."

When was the last time he used the word _please_ so often in such a short amount of time when he knew there wasn't a chance the night would end with sex?

I sigh, turning back to the sunset only to realize the sun has gone down completely, replaced by a clear starry night. "What else do you have in that basket, Grey?" I ask him.

He grins, retrieving the piece of cake and two forks for us to share dessert. We take turns eating and it's not long before I forget about contracts and businesses. I'm determined to make this night count.

* * *

With cake and wine long gone, Ana and I are lying down on the blanket, side-by-side, staring up at the sky. The only parts of us that are touching are our arms, and that's surprisingly fine with me. I feel as though a weight has lifted off my shoulders. Every single person I've consulted to draw up this paperwork has tried to talk me out of it. They called me a fool and warned me of the repercussions of doing something like this. I fired them. I knew exactly what I was doing when I proposed the plan. I know exactly what the repercussions might be.

But as I told Ana, if I were to fuck up again thoroughly enough that she permanently left me, nothing would bring me back from that. I love my business and what I've turned it into; I love my family more. So fuck it. I've entrusted her with my life and well-being. She can do with it as she pleases. If she wants to shut everything down tomorrow, fine. As long as I still have her at my side, none of the rest of it fucking matters to me. I need to dedicate at least as much time to my marriage as I have my work.

Why does it always take Ana leaving me for me to have these breakthroughs?

I turn my head to look at her and smile. She's completely lost in thought, staring at the sky, and she's never looked more beautiful. I tell her that very thing and she turns her head to meet my eyes. She's smiling shyly at me again and any second she'll...

"I thought we discussed this, Anastasia," I murmur, reaching over to free her lip from her teeth. "Stop biting that lip."

"And if I don't?" she challenges with a raised eyebrow.

I know how I want to respond, but I'm not sure she'll appreciate it. When she slowly puts her lip back between her teeth, I find myself unable to hold back. With a growl, I move to hover over her, palms flat on either side of her head, knees hugging her hips. Her eyes have widened and she sucks in a sharp breath, but she makes no move to push me away. Encouraged, I bend my elbows until my lips are just above hers. For a second, we stare at each other, each trying to figure out the other's motives. Ana makes the first move: I feel one of her hands slide into my hair and pull me forward.

The kiss is amazing. Slow, sweet, sensual... Fucking sexy. When she groans softly, I deepen the kiss, our tongues entwining. I feel her free hand slide around my waist and pull me down on top of her. We're lost in each other, clueless of whatever might possibly be around us, and it is the best feeling in the world. It's one of those kisses that usually leads to something more heated and ferocious. I know it's not taking us there this time, and I'm fine with that. Not that I wouldn't approve of such actions. I just don't _need_ it. I feel like we're reacquainting with one another. It's perfect.

I have no idea how much time has passed when we finally pull apart, and it doesn't matter. I rest my forehead against hers as we catch our breath before I open my eyes, finding hers shining back at me.

"Hi, Mrs. Grey," I say huskily.

She smiles back shyly. "Hi yourself, Mr. Grey." She squirms a little beneath me—whether it's intentional or not, I have no idea—and I feel a bolt of electricity shoot through my body.

When my eyes open—when the fuck did I close them?—she's looking at me in a way she hasn't in months. I know exactly what she's thinking right now. My erection is pressed against the apex of her thighs and all I want to do is grind against her for a bit of relief. It takes every ounce of self-restraint I have, and have ever had, to push myself away from her, leaving her looking confused and lost.

"What?" she asks breathlessly as I run my hands across my face to regain some of composure.

"Ana, we're not there yet," I say, trying to settle my throbbing hard-on. It's starting to get painful. "Believe me, I want this. And knowing you want this only makes me want it more. But I've been thinking about how we began and as incredible as the sex was, we didn't give ourselves much of a chance for anything else. You've forgiven me, and you'll never know how much that means to me, but I need your trust, too. And please, don't just tell me you trust me because you want me. I only have so much restraint and I'm trying to do the honorable thing here."

 _Like you should have done that night at the hotel bar when you saw Lucy?_

Fuck off.

She sighs. "Okay," she agrees, sounding thoroughly disappointed. "You're right." She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It's late. We should probably head inside..."

Oh god... I made her feel like I'm rejecting her. We pack up and head back to the house in silence. Here I was thinking I was being honorable and noble. She thinks I don't want her.

 _Well, there is a way to prove her wrong..._

I walk her to her room, the silence between us almost as painful as what's going on in my pants. I have to grab her hand to stop her entering without talking to me. I try to think of what to say to her, to set her at ease that I've never wanted her more than I do right now. There really is only one thing that comes to mind...

I cup her neck, bringing her lips to meet mine, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, and as sexily as I can. She's once again pressed against me, this time with the door behind her. And once again, I manage to pull away from her. "Ana, please don't ever doubt how desperately I want you," I whisper into her ear, teasing the lobe with my teeth. "I just don't want you to regret what we do. I want you to be ready in every way possible."

She nods at my words, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy.

I smile. "Good night, baby," I whisper, placing one last kiss on her lips. "I love you."

Not until I'm entering my room do I hear her response: "I love you, too, Christian."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

Monday mid-morning is dragging along. I've been sitting in meetings all day and I'm just counting the seconds until I can go home. It's nearly lunchtime when my phone rings. I grab it without checking the caller id, desperate for a distraction from monotony.

"Grey," I snap.

"Christian."

My eyes widen and I nearly drop my phone. "Mom," I blurt in shock. "Is everything all right?"

I hear her chuckle. It's almost as welcome as Ana's giggle. "Everything's fine, sweetheart," she assures me. "I was wondering if you were free for lunch today."

"Of course I am." I'm actually not, but I have no problem rearranging my schedule for this.

"Good. I was thinking the Mile High Club. Shall we meet at 1:30?"

"Sounds perfect," I agree immediately.

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Okay."

We hang up and I place my phone back on my desk, staring at it in complete shock. Lunch with my mother. Our first contact since she walked out of my home. I finally have my chance to apologize... I wanted this more than anything since then.

So why the fuck am I so nervous?


	27. Chapter 27

From the first moment I set eyes on Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey, I knew there was something special about her. I don't remember much from the time directly following my birth mother's death, but what I do remember clearly as though it were yesterday is watching a very pretty woman walking into the hospital room where I was being treated for malnourishment, dehydration, and several injuries inflicted by the pimp. Most of the people at the hospital were very kind to me, but it was because they pitied me. I recognized that even as a four-year-old, even if I didn't quite understand it. Grace never pitied me. The doctors and nurses tended to me, doing their jobs, then left me alone in that room. I remember being lonely, more lonely than I've ever felt, and sad and angry, and desperate to see my mother. Unlike the others, Grace sat with me whenever she had even a second of spare time, reading to me, talking to me. She even brought me a puzzle to occupy me and helped me put it together. The picture was of a puppy dog. I was so proud when we finished that puzzle.

Grace learned earlier than anybody about my phobia of being touched. The first time she tried to touch me, when I was upset and crying and throwing a tantrum because the nurses were trying to give me a bath, she immediately understood. I have a vague recollection of her pulling my nurses and other doctors out of my room and reading them the riot act anytime one of them tried to push my limits. It took a while, but I finally discovered that Grace could be trusted to know where I couldn't be touched. If I was upset, she sat beside me, her hand running through my hair, whispering comforting words to me.

One day she didn't come see me. I had been waiting for her—she'd promised to be there to have dinner with me—and I'd been on my very best behavior that day, because I knew it made her sad to see me crying and throwing fits. I even let a nurse help me with my bath, though I controlled where the washcloth went. I remember sitting on my bed, staring at the door and waiting for the nice lady to walk through it and smile at me. That smile comforted me in a way nothing else did.

She didn't come that night. I threw the biggest tantrum I'd thrown the entire time I was in that fucking hospital—I shoved away the tray of dinner one of the orderlies brought me, making a mess on the floor. I fought anyone who tried to calm me down, screaming if they came near me. None of them knew what to do with me. I didn't care. Grace and I had bonded, and she broke a promise to be there for me that night. I had been absolutely devastated. I had convinced myself that I'd done something wrong, something to anger her.

When Grace appeared at my door the next night for dinner, I wanted nothing to do with her. She tried touching my hair—I swatted away her hand. She apologized—I rolled over, my back facing her. I know she sat at my bedside that entire night, and though I couldn't admit it aloud, just her presence comforted me.

The day before I was discharged from the hospital, Grace entered my room, not in her doctor's clothes, but a sweater and pants. This time she was accompanied by other people. There was a man who seemed nice enough, though I didn't like him as much as Grace. The man was holding the hand of a little boy a couple years older than me with blond hair and blue eyes. Grace introduced them as Carrick and Elliot, though of course my mind processed Lelliot. She told me they would be my new family—she would be my new mommy, Carrick my new daddy, and Lelliot my big brother. I didn't understand what she meant by any of it—I had a mommy. I didn't need another one. But at the same time, I really liked Grace and didn't want her to leave.

I spent a few weeks in a foster home. Grace visited me every day. She would tell me about her house and the bedroom she and Carrick arranged for me. She told me I could play outside in their big backyard with Lelliot and that she and Carrick would take care of me. The day I finally went home with them was the most terrifying and best day of my young life. It was the start of my new life with my new family who loved me. My nightmares haunted me for years to follow, but Grace was always there to comfort me in the best way she could. Carrick taught me to fish and ride a bike. Lelliot taught me to play. I wanted to tell them what they meant to me and that I loved them, but I couldn't find my words. They were lost when my mother left me. I think I was afraid if I said anything, the Greys would realize I was a naughty little boy who didn't deserve their time, and they'd send me away.

They never did. No matter what I said or did, Grace never turned her back on me. Even the discovery of what went on with me and Elena when I was fifteen didn't stop her loving me.

Only once has she turned her back on me. That was last week when she stood up and walked out of my home after I told her I had still been in contact with Elena, even after promising her I wouldn't. I am in debt to this woman for saving my life and my repayment was to betray her trust.

But this is my chance to fix it. Complete honesty—maybe not _complete_ ; no mother needs to hear that her fifteen-year-old son was being tied up naked by a friend of hers, begging to be fucked—is the only way to go about this.

On the way to the club, I called Ana to tell her what I was doing. She even offered to meet me so I wouldn't have to face this alone, and though I was desperately tempted to take her up on that offer, I know this is something I need to do on my own. For once in my life, I have to own up to my mistakes and earn back forgiveness. I can do this...

All my life I've managed to portray a man who never shows emotion, never shows what he's really thinking to anybody. Only within the last few years has that changed; the first time I told my parents I loved them, I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack and my mom's eyes teared up every time I saw her for a week. I don't know how many times Grace told me how grateful she was to Ana for "bringing me out of myself". It was a while before I really understood what she meant by that. I wasn't only different around Ana than I'd ever been with another woman; I was different with my family. I was more apt to come to family dinners and actually stay until dessert; I was less likely to blow off my siblings if they wanted to spend time with me. Ana changed everything about me and everybody noticed.

It only makes what I did to her worse.

I glance up from where I've been staring at my glass of wine when there's a knock on the door of the private room where will be meeting. I've instructed the club's personnel that we are to be left alone throughout our meal and that they were to knock before entering. I don't need some nosy busboy hearing any of this shit and then selling to the gossip rags at the highest bidder. I stand as she's led to my table and walk around to meet her. "Hello, Mother," I say tentatively.

She smiles at me. It's a little brittle, but it's real. "Hello, Christian."

I lean down and kiss her cheek, then pull out her chair for her before walking around to sit across from her. "Wine?" I ask, reaching for the bottle.

She glances at the bottle and debates. "Please."

I fill up her glass, then mine, and we puruse the menu silently. The tension is building, but we manage to avoid each other until our lunch orders are taken. Once the waiter leaves the table, I rest my arms on the table and lean towards my mother. "Mom," I begin, trying to remember everything I wanted to say to her. It all seemed to fade away when she arrived.

"Me first, Christian," she interrupts. She sets aside her wine glass and reaches across the table to place her hands on mine. I can't help my rapidly beating heartbeat. Is this it? The moment she tells me I've gone too far this time and she wants nothing more to do with me? "First, I must apologize for the way I left you the other night. I taught my children that if there isn't something nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all, and at that very moment, I had nothing nice to say. I'm not going to pretend I wasn't hurt and disappointed with what you had to tell me, and I'm not going to pretend that I was and still am beyond angry with you. You made a promise to me Christian, at the bedside of your injured wife who was carrying your child, and you broke it. I thought you were done with that woman—I took you at your word, Christian. I thought you understood that what went on with you and Elena Lincoln was nothing more than child abuse, and that anything that happened after was inappropriate." She sighs and shakes her head a little. "Christian, without going into too much detail, I want to know about your relationship with Elena over the last few years."

I swallow hard. I know this would be a point of discussion—whether Grace brought it up or I did, I had every intention of telling her. "After I turned twenty-one," I begin hoarsely, "it was business. She fronted me the capital to start my business as a loan. I suppose..." I trail off, shaking my own head as I rethink what I was going to say. "I considered her a friend, a confidant. Even after I repaid the loan, I remained in contact with her. I believed she understood me. She knew of my haphephobia and she helped set me up with... women... who respected this."

My mother's eyes widened. Clearly this was far beyond what she thought we would be discussing today. "Women?" she says faintly.

I nod, unable to meet her eyes. "I know everyone thought Ana was my first girlfriend and everything else, and for the most part that is true. She was the first woman I ever considered having a real relationship with. She was the first woman I ever saw a future with. She changed everything for me, Mom."

"She can't have changed everything, Christian," she says, using an uncharacteristically bitter tone. "You cheated on her."

And there is the familiar feeling of shame. "I know," I whisper.

"Tell me more about Elena," Grace says, using her professional tone. "Was it only sex? If that's the case, then why remain in touch with her after so long? Why not cut ties with her? She abused you, Christian!"

I sit back in my chair, running my hands through my hair. There's a knock on the door and I've got another moment to think as our salads are delivered. I suddenly have no interest in eating, but I pick up my fork reflexively. Once the waiter leaves us, I look at my mother, my saving grace, again. "Our relationship was complicated," I begin quietly, staring at my salad. "I know I told you this before, but Elena taught me about controlling my behavior in all things. She took a troubled boy who could've ended up dead or in prison and turned him into a highly-successful businessman."

"How, Christian?" Grace is starting to sound exasperated, bordering on angry. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand how a child molester could possibly have a positive influence on a victim."

I've been trying to figure out just how much of this to share, and I think back to when I first told Anastasia about my lifestyle. I balk at the realization I'm about to have much the same discussion with my _mother_. "Elena introduced me to a lifestyle she'd practiced for quite a while," I begin cautiously. "I don't know whether you're familiar with BDSM—" _Please god, don't let her be familiar with it!_ "—and to be an active participant, control is positively necessary."

I pause, taking a bite of the salad that tastes like newspaper and have to watch as my mother realizes exactly what I'm trying to say. "Oh, Christian," she whispers, her eyes closing. She looks as though her heart is breaking. When she opens her eyes again, I see anger and hatred shining back at me. It takes a lot to convince myself those emotions aren't meant for me. "So Elena was your..." She looks around the room, searching for the word that evades her.

"Elena was my Dominant. I was her submissive," I hear myself admitting. "It meant she had full control over me in all things. If she got word that I'd been fighting or slacking off in school or that I was drinking, I was punished."

Grace gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. "If she 'got word'? What you're saying is when I confided in my _friend_ she was using those things against you?" Her voice is firm, but her entire body is shaking.

"Mom," I say when I realize where her thoughts are going. "Please don't blame yourself. You had no reason to believe this was going on and I wouldn't have told you. Of course you should have been able to confide in someone."

"I gave that bitch ammunition to punish you," she says severely. "And what does that mean, punish? How did she punish you?"

 _Fuck..._ "Physical punishment," I say, staring down at the table. "Usually with some sort of implement. Her favorite was a cane."

Grace looks like she might fall over. "A cane?" she whispers faintly. "And... and she beat you with this cane?"

I nod. "Yes. I got pretty accomplished at hiding the marks from you and Dad. She would make sure the marks were where no one would see them. My back. My chest. Upper thighs..."

Further realization has struck. "So all those times you came home limping or with a bruise that you said was from fighting at school... Elena did that?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Christian," she whispers. " _Why didn't you tell us?_ "

That's actually an easier answer than most of the rest. "She had me convinced that if you and Dad were to find out you would turn me away. She knew about my fears of abandonment and my self-loathing. I truly believed her when she said I deserved what she was giving me and worse. I was afraid that if you found out what was going on, you'd hate me."

"You were just a boy," she says, shaking her head sadly.

I sigh heavily. I know I need to tune out these comments—if she keeps making them, I'm going to break down and never get through this conversation. "After a time, I was grateful for her," I say to my wine glass. "My grades were improving, my behavior was improving, and as a result of that, you and Dad were happier with me. There were days I wanted to come to you, days that I very nearly did. But every time I tried, Elena seemed to be right there, knowing exactly what I was going to do. The punishment was always harsh and was generally held off on until you and Dad were out of town for whatever reason."

"I don't want to know anymore about punishment," she says suddenly, looking ill. She distractedly pushes away her salad, then takes a fortifying gulp of her wine. "If this... _relationship_ ended when you were twenty-one, then why on earth keep in contact with her?"

"Like I said, I considered her a friend, the one person in the world who knew me. She introduced me to this lifestyle and it allowed me to succeed when I could have so easily failed. It's about control and power..."

Her eyes widen. "Are you saying you still practice this lifestyle?"

"No," I answer quickly and honestly then realize it isn't quite true. "Not in that manner."

"Did you hurt women?" she demands, her voice nearly shrill. "All those things Elena introduced you to—did you partake in them on your own?"

I feel my head nod. "Yes. I was a Dominant."

"How many women, Christian?" she asks as though she doesn't want the answer. "Ana?"

"No," I tell her firmly. "Ana is not part of that lifestyle. Before her there were fifteen women, all of whom were of legal age and agreed to submit to me. Please don't ask me for details, Mom. You don't want them."

"Well, I think you're right about that," she says wryly, just before a knock on the door signaling the main course had arrived. Our mostly full plates of food are taken, replaced with grilled chicken and rice. My mother and I are only looking at one another and I know she's compiling a list of questions for me. We're left alone again and she picks right up. "How did Ana come into this? You can't tell me she approved of this sort of thing."

I smile slightly. "No, she didn't," I admit softly. "When we first met, I wanted to introduce her to it. It was the only way I knew to be intimate with a woman—" I inwardly cringe. Did I really just say that to my mother? "And even though I knew it probably wouldn't work out, I wanted Ana. I didn't understand why. She fascinated me, obsessed me... I pursued her. I found out how innocent she really was and nearly called the whole thing off. Even I couldn't take advantage of her. But she didn't want to leave. She wanted me even though I'd told her one of my darkest secrets. Eventually we worked out a way we could be together. She accepted me as I was, I compromised with her in a way I've never done with anybody. And it was the very best decision I ever made."

My mom's expression has softened slightly hearing me talk about my wife. "Again, I can't argue with you on that. How did you meet these women? Surely they can't be found in classifieds." She scoffs.

I snort a laugh into my wine. "No," I agree, realizing what I'm about to share. "Actually, Elena helped me find most of them. She knew the type of woman I preferred and she knew my..." I pause, second-guessing using the term hard/soft limits. Really don't want to get into that. "My _other_ preferences..." We both look away from each other and my mother's face grows red.

"And judging by the display at your birthday party a few years ago, I imagine she took to Anastasia like a duck to water," Grace mutters with more sarcasm than I've ever heard her use.

"She thought Ana was a fleeting fancy," I say. "She and I remained in contact often through the years for more than just the reasons we're discussing; we have a business relationship. Or _had_ might be the more operative term. I was a partner in several of her ventures including Esclava. At first she seemed supportive of my relationship with Ana. When Ana flew to Georgia to visit her mother, Elena encouraged me to fly out to see her. I think she thought that if I got Ana out of my system, I'd go back to doing what I always did. When that didn't happen, she started trying to talk me out of being with Ana by telling me I was only capable of having the type of relationship she and I had. It was her only way to keep me under her thumb."

"So not only did she introduce you to this twisted way of life, but she tried to manipulate you away from the best thing that ever came into your world," Grace summarizes. I can only nod. "How long after our conversation in the hospital when Ana was recovering did you contact her again?"

Sighing, I occupy my fingers by twisting my wine glass between them. "Not until Teddy was a few months old," I admit. "At first it wasn't intentional, us being in touch. I was having lunch one afternoon and she happened to be there. We spoke briefly—she congratulated me on my son's birth, I thanked her, we went on our way. A week or so later, she contacted me asking if I'd meet her lunch for old time's sake—I know I should have said no, but I agreed. It wasn't long before we were having lunch once or twice a week. We fell back into old routines—I would confide in her about my business deals. I didn't want to talk to her about Ana, but eventually we were. When Ana and I started fighting a couple years ago, Elena as right there to tell me how she'd always known Ana and I wouldn't work out. After years of blocking out her poisoning me on normal relationships, I let her in again. I believed everything she was saying about Ana, letting her comfort me when I was upset about whatever was going on in my marriage."

My mother is staring me in disbelief. "Instead of speaking with your therapist or god forbid, your wife, you confided in your child molester?" she asks incredulously.

"Yes," I respond. "Ana calls it an emotional affair. She's right, of course. At the time, I honestly didn't see anything wrong with talking to Elena—aside from Ana, she knew me better than anyone, knew the worst things about me—"

"And she used that to wreck your marriage," Grace spats.

I feel like a world-class bastard, a feeling I've had much too often over the last several months. "Yes." I don't know what else to say. This lunch is exhausting me, mentally and emotionally, and I just want to go home to my wife. Unfortunately, there's still a lot Grace needs to know.

"Where does this Lucy woman come into the picture?" she asks. I wonder if she's changing the subject from Elena because she can't stomach to hear more or wants to get this over with so she can walk out and leave me behind for good.

Fighting to keep that thought in the back of my mind where it belongs, I sigh. "Lucy and I met last year," I say. "It started out as a business relationship, but I was away from home working on a deal and went to the bar. Lucy was there. Ana and I were fighting again, and I wanted some sort of outlet, someone to talk to. We ended up in my hotel room."

"Did you even stop to think what would happen to your marriage?" she asks. "The woman who stayed with you even knowing all of these secrets, brought you into the light..."

"I know," I say painfully. "And I did think about it. Between what was happening with Ana and me, and all the things Elena was putting into my head a couple times a week, I justified what I was doing by convincing myself my wife was going to leave me and I needed something to control my world."

"Christian, Ana loved you more than anything," Grace says fervently. "We all saw it! She wouldn't have left you."

"She almost did," I admit. "She had bags packed, but changed her mind before going through with it."

My mother's eyebrows rise briefly in surprise. "Well, all things considered, I couldn't have blamed her if she had," she says bluntly. "As for blaming her..." The anger has returned and this, I know, is directed solely towards me. "For you to keep from us the reason she left you is just as bad as lying to us. I spent months thinking some very horrible things about her, because I believed she broke your heart. I've already said my piece to Ana about this and apologized profusely. I'm glad she's giving you another chance and that the two of you seem committed to working it out, but let me tell you this, Christian Grey: if you lose that girl through carelessness and deceit, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

"That I know," I tell my mother. "Mom, I spent five months thinking I could replace Ana. I thought Lucy might be my future if Ana left me."

"Were you in love with her?" asks my mom.

I sigh. "For a brief time," I begin slowly, once again seriously considering the question, "I believed I was."

"And now?"

I take a sip of my wine and a deep breath, thinking through what I need to say. "Ana asked me once whether I was in love with Elena and I thought it was the most ridiculous question I've ever been asked. I told her no and it was the truth. I was already in love with Ana by then; I just didn't realize it. What I didn't understand at the time, what I've only just begun to understand is that in some twisted way, while I was with Elena, I believed I was in love with her because I didn't really understand love. It wasn't until I met Ana that I realized what I felt for Elena was as far from love as it was possible to be. I felt and still feel that way about Lucy. What I feel for Anastasia is more real than anything I've ever experienced. She's my life and I will never put her through anything like that again."

Grace's brow furrows. "What do you mean manufactured and contrived?" she asks cautiously as though she already suspects the answer.

"Elena," I say bitterly. "Apparently she and Lucy are old friends. Elena helped Lucy weave her way deeper into my life. She knew me well enough to know which hotels I stay at when on away on business—Lucy showed up outside me room while I was in Germany last month. I turned her away," I add hastily at the flash of anger in my mother's eyes. "And I came clean to Ana about it when I saw her next."

"You're finally being honest with her then?" she remarks. I flinch at her words.

"I'm trying," I respond emphatically. "Mom, I've never tried so hard for anything in my life."

She nods. "And the kidnapping?"

My stomach clenches at the recent memory of finding out my son had been taken by a yet unknown assailant. "Lucy picked him up from his school. The school failed to follow proper security protocol for students leaving. We believe Lucy was planning to take Teddy out of England, possibly to come back here. She convinced herself—possibly with Elena's assistance—that the only thing keeping me from divorcing Ana was our son, and if she took Teddy from her, I'd follow along and be with her."

Grace is shaking her head. "Christian, that could have gone so much more differently," she says quietly.

"I know," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "Believe me, Mom, I know. And if it had gone differently, if something had happened to my son because of something I was responsible for, I never would have forgiven myself."

"And yet you don't understand my anger towards Elena," she tells me. "Christian, you and your brother and sister have always been my life. I would have done anything possible to keep you safe. Then I find out that my friend was taking advantage of you and your vulnerabilities for years, right under my nose. You can tell me all you want that I wasn't responsible for these punishments Elena put you through, but if I had kept my mouth shut, she never would have had reason..." She trails off when I shake my head.

"Mom, I was so caught up in what Elena and I were doing that I would have told her about my misdeeds even if you hadn't. I don't blame you," I tell her fervently. "Never once have I blamed you. You and Dad and Elliot and Mia... you were my safe place. All I ever wanted was to make you proud of me and to feel worthy of your love. I never wanted you to hear any of this and I'm sorry that I've brought us to a place where you have to hear it. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you and I would fully understand if you left here today and never wanted to see me again."

The nerves are back as I watch my mother's face as she registers what I've just said to her. Her expression matches the one I've seen Ana use with me: the one of strained patience. "Never wanted to see you again?" she repeats incredulously. "Christian, when is it going to sink into your brain that no matter what happens, you are my son. I love you unconditionally—I always have and I always will. You anger me, disappoint me, frustrate me to no end, but that does not mean I will ever cut you out of my life. Sweetheart, you're my little boy. I don't care how old you get; that's what you will always be. Yes, I am upset that you broke promises and lied and put trust in people who don't deserve it in the slightest, but I know how hard you're working to get Ana back. And I support you in that fully. I am praying the two of you can get past this, and as long as you're determined to change your behavior, you'll have her at your side until your last dying breath. That woman loves you, Christian; I don't think you fully comprehend that.

"Now, having said all I've said, this is the last I will pry into your private life. You and Anastasia need to work through your problems together, without my help or that of Kate's..." She rolls her eyes, telling me she knows exactly what happened between me and my sister-in-law before dinner last week. "Don't throw away this opportunity, Christian. You'll regret it more than you ever know if you do."

I nod. "I know," I whisper, still in shock that she still wants me in her life after everything I've just told her. "Thank you, Mom."

She smiles and reaches over to take my hand in hers. "I love you, Christian. Nothing will change that. I can only hope that one day you'll understand that."

"I love you, too," I say hoarsely.

We decide to pass on our cold lunches and for once I don't balk at the thought of food waste; I think if I tried to eat right now, I'd be sick. I think my mother feels the same. I walk her to her car silently, opening the driver's side door for her. "Tell Dad hello for me," I say. "I'll probably come by this weekend for a chat with him if he's not busy."

"I'll tell him," she promises, allowing me to pull her for a hug and kiss. "And Christian?"

"Yes?" I ask as I help her into the car.

"Let's never have a discussion like this again, okay?"

I think my mother is actually blushing. And when I realize she's doing this because of the subject of our conversation, I also blush. "Deal," I quickly agree. "Drive safe." She smiles and waves as she pulls out of the parking lot.

I nearly collapse in relief when I realize I've survived the most humiliating conversation I've ever had with my mother. Taylor's pulled the car around and informs me that he's called ahead to let Ana know I'm on my way home. I bristle for a moment at his assumption that I wouldn't be returning to work after lunch and that he called my wife without my knowledge or permission. It's only as I'm buckling up in the backseat that I realize I couldn't handle returning to work and it's only fair to have given Ana ample warning before my arrival.

I don't know how I'm feeling right now—emotionally drained, exhausted, desperate to hold my wife and son in my arms. What I do know is that my worst thoughts haven't come to pass. My mother doesn't hate me because of everything I've told her today. She still loves me. Still wants me.

How did I get so lucky in my life? Forget all my success professionally; my family loves me, supports me through everything, and I've taken them for granted more often than not. It's time to change that. My parents won't be around forever; I need to show them what they mean to me.

Ana's good at that sort of thing. So I think my first step is will be showing her what she means to me. And I know exactly how to do that.


	28. Chapter 28

Nearly three hours have gone by since Christian called to let me know he was having lunch with Grace today. I don't think I've ever felt more nervous for another person in my life. While I think I know what they'll be discussing, and the things he'll be disclosing, I'm bracing myself for the worst. There is no part of me that believes Grace would write off her son for any reason, but as much as I tried to convince Christian of this, the more worried he became about facing her.

Aside from that that ominous phone call, I've been pretty busy myself. After our most recent talks, and having finally settled in at home, I've started looking around for employment opportunities. I haven't mentioned it to Christian, but if his word is anything to go by, he won't have any objections to my decision. Not that it will matter to me at this point if he does find some sort of objection; I'm long past the days when I follow his word day in and day out. I'm trying to regain the feelings I had before this entire mess started—respect, love, trust. I think I've regained one out of the three, but the other two elude me and will probably continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

When I haven't been playing with Teddy, I've been on the phone. My mom and Ray have only just gotten the messages I've left them about returning to Seattle. Mom seems as though she couldn't be happier and has promised a visit for Christmas. Ray, on the other hand... Despite not having told my parents all the gritty details of my and Christian's separation, and the fact that Christian's PR team has somehow managed to keep a lot of the information about Lucy kidnapping Teddy under wraps, I think Ray has worked out a lot of the details on his own. He spent several minutes gruffly telling me to let him know if I needed him and he'd be in Seattle before I could blink an eye. I'll have to remember to warn Christian to avoid Ray as well as continuing to avoid Kate.

I sense movement out of the corner of my eyes and glance over. I yelp in surprise and my heart stops for a second as I find Christian standing just inside the door of the library where I holed up during Teddy's nap in an attempt to catch up on some reading. Needless to say between worrying about Christian's lunch with his mom and having no idea what kind of mood he would be in upon arriving home, and thinking about the opportunity that presented itself to me earlier today, I haven't even started looking for a book to read yet.

"Hi," I say quietly, eyeing him closely and trying to gage his mood. He's pale. He's been running both hands through his hair, his tie is loosened around his neck, and his shirt it partially untucked. I'm going to hazard a guess and say lunch wasn't full of laughs. "How'd it go?"

He lets out a long sigh, blinking rapidly as he pushes himself off the wall where he's been leaning for who knows how long. "Well," he says hoarsely as he wanders over to sit beside me on the couch, immediately reaching for my hand, "I made it out in one piece."

I smile sympathetically. "You knew it wasn't going to be easy," I remind him, squeezing his hand.

He nods slowly. "I did," he confirms. "And I thought I was prepared for it." He looks over at me with wide, disbelieving, horrified eyes. "Ana, I discussed BDSM with my mother."

All of a sudden, I have the insane urge to laugh. I'm not sure if it's because I'm mortified at the very thought or trying to see the funny side in a decidedly unfunny situation, but I manage to rein in my amusement; somehow I don't think Christian would appreciate it right now. "You did... what?" I struggle to keep my voice even, hoping he doesn't attribute the shakiness to subdued laughter.

"Yeah," he responds, staring across the room unseeing. "She wanted to know more about my relationship with Elena and next thing I knew we were talking about control, Dominants, submissives, and punishments. The worst thing about it is that I was still trying to justify what happened when I was fifteen. Mom didn't appreciate that. She's not happy with me—the way I've treated you, the way I've lied to both of you... I think if she thought could have gotten away with it, she would have grounded me." I let out a snort of a laugh before I can stop myself; Christian shoots me a weak, wry smile. "Of all the conversations I've had with my parents over the years that had to be the worst. Ana, I know I said things that hurt her—telling her about Elena punishing me because she'd been talking to my mother about my latest misdeeds; having to tell her about Lucy... But I realized not telling her the truth now would have been worst in the long run. If she'd been determined to cut ties with me, she wouldn't have given a shit about what happened with me and Elena or me and Lucy. She did, though; Ana, my mom loves me."

 _Halle-fucking-lujah!_ Despite the wonder in his voice, I know he finally believes what I've been trying to tell him for years. I want to get to my feet, jump up and down, and cheer until my voice is raw. I don't, though, because Christian isn't finished speaking.

"She's not abandoning me like I thought she would once she learned the worst, sickest, darkest thing about me; she still wants me in her life." His voice is full of wonder, his eyes wide as he turns to me. "Just like you, Anastasia. I don't know why. I don't know how. But for some reason, you're still here and you still love me. I've hurt Grace. I've broken her heart and her trust. I've done all that and more to you. I don't understand it. I really wish I did. What I do understand is that I've been listening to your words—that you've forgiven me for the affair and that you love me and you're determined that we try to work this out and you're not going to run—but not until today when I heard Grace say essentially the same things did they actually click."

My brow furrows in slight confusion. "You didn't believe me before?" I'm surprised at how much that thought stings.

His face falls. "No," he says quickly. "I believed you. But you know me: there's always some shred of doubt and I'm always waiting for the other foot to fall... I don't have those fears now. It doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to prove myself to you—I'll never stop doing that. It means I understand you're not just going to up and leave me again. I understand you want to be here as much as I want you to be here and you're not just doing this for me or Teddy. You're doing it for you, too." He pauses and sighs heavily, shaking his head "This isn't coming out right..."

"No, I get it," I tell him quietly. "Throughout all the time I've known you, you never believed you were capable or deserving of love, no matter what the rest of us tried to tell you. You truly are the most exasperating man I've ever met, Christian." I swear he's grinning at me. "I don't know what you're smiling about. You just told your mother about BDSM." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I hold my breath, waiting for Christian's reaction.

For a moment he just stares at me, frozen. Then, very slowly, his face relaxes and to my surprise, he's laughing. After a second, I join in with him. It's cathartic, laughing with him over something like this, something so serious. If this is what I can expect from "new" Christian, I think I'll be very happy. "Old" Christian would have locked himself in his study by now, thrown himself into his work, and drank until dawn.

By the time we manage to calm down enough to wipe away our tears and refocus our vision, Christian looks younger than he has in years. We're still snickering every time our eyes meet. I catch my breath first. "I'm sorry," I tell him rather breathlessly. "I don't mean to laugh at that. I can only imagine how horrifying it was."

His smile softens as he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't apologize," he says gently. "It's one of the things I love about you. You always have a way of turning things that are mortifyingly embarrassing into something I can laugh at. It means the world to me that I can come home after something like that and laugh. So thank you."

I'm not entirely certain what it is I'm supposed to say to this, but before I know what's really going on, I'm in Christian's lap, our hips are pressed together, and our lips are almost desperately moving together. My hands are tangled in his hair while one of his holds me against him and the other cups the back of my neck. All the excitement from the other night, when we were on the picnic blanket for our second date, is rushing back, and I'm not the only one feeling it...

Christian groans into my mouth pressing me down firmly against his erection and my head falls back as I suck in a breath. He takes the opportunity to latch onto my neck, placing rapid, hot kisses against my skin. The hand holding my hip tentatively begins sliding up until it's resting softly against my breast. My eyes fly open to find him looking up at me warily as though he's just waiting for me to push him away. I consider it for half a second until I feel my body pressing into his hand. His eyes flutter shut briefly and he lets out a shuddering breath before he looks at me again, his eyes blazing.

Long fingers caress me through my shirt as we return to kissing furiously, almost as though our lives are depending on it. I don't know what's fuelled this—whether it's been pent up for months or because he desperately needed some confirmation of my feelings—and I can't say at the moment I really care. For this brief period, I've forgotten about everything, despite the voice in the back of my mind reminding me nothing's gone away and it will come crashing back the moment this connection is broken.

When I grind down against Christian's hips, he lets out a groan of his own and his own head falls back, giving me free access to his neck, which I take full advantage of. When I feel the hand not teasing my nipple move down between us to stroke me, I know exactly where this is going to lead. And when Christian slowly lowers me onto the couch, settling himself on top of me, I know there will be no going back.

Until, that is, we hear the high-pitched laugh of our son.

We both freeze simultaneously, our eyes flying open and staring wide-eyed at each other. Moment broken.

"Fuck," Christian breathes, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.

I nod my agreement as I try to catch my breath. "Yeah," I respond. Teddy's voice is accompanied by Gail's, and it doesn't take me long to conclude our son has finished his nap and is being led into the kitchen for his afternoon snack. "We should probably..."

With a heavy sigh, Christian pushes himself off me and collapses on the opposite end of the couch, running his hands through his hair as he tries to calm himself. We're silent for a few minutes, not looking at one another, until I feel a finger trace the outline of my jaw gently. I startle and look at him questioningly. He smiles softly. "What would you like to do for our third date?" he asks quietly.

My eyebrows rise. Is he really asking me this after what we were just doing? "What did you have in mind?" I counter.

He smirks, telling me immediately he was having the same thoughts I was only seconds before. "I was contemplating a few things," he says mysteriously. "I was thinking about taking _The Grace_ out before the weather turns too cold. Or we could see another movie. In a movie theater," I giggle; he grins, "or we can do something completely different."

I nod slowly, thinking over all our options. "I'd like to go out on _The Grace_ ," I say, feeling shy.

His smile widens, turning boyish. " _The Grace_ it is, then," he says simply. "Are we thinking a day-trip, maybe a weekend? With or without Teddy?"

"I think a weekend, just the two of us," I hear myself saying. "Soon, in case my job interview goes well."

Surprise fills his expression. "Job interview?" he asks sharply.

I nod. "I spoke to Kate today," I tell him. "She recommended I apply with a new publishing firm. It's only been open six months, but they've already got some pretty big names signed."

Christian's expression is unreadable and I suddenly flashback to all the times we've discussed me returning to work and the arguments they've ensued. "And what is the name of this publishing company?" he asks quietly.

Disappointment floods. I know where this will lead. And after what we just did and the plans we made for going out on _The Grace_... How stupid was I to think someone like Christian who needs to be in constant control of his entire world could possibly change? Does my happiness mean nothing to him or was he just indulging me with the semblance of control over my own life just to get me back into his?

"Hey," he says urgently, scooting over to sit beside me and reaching out to wipe a tear that's fallen out of my eye. "Baby, why are you crying?"

I pull away from him. "I thought you supported my desire to return to work?" I hear myself say shakily.

His eyes widen and he sits up straight suddenly. "I do!" he tells me incredulously. "Ana, of course I support you! If you want to work, I have no desire to hold you back from that. All I wanted to know was the name of the place."

I blink rapidly at him. Have I just jumped to conclusions too quickly? His expression says he's genuine, but my doubts have been creeping back on me since my conversation with Kate. "Oh," I say lamely. "Um, Golden Gate Publishing."

He nods slowly, still watching me closely. "You thought I didn't mean a thing I said, didn't you?" he asks coolly. "You thought after everything I've said about changing and being a better husband to you, I was going to keep you from working." Hurt flashes across his face. "Ana, I know I've hurt you and broken a million and one promises, but baby, please have just a little bit of faith in me. I want you happy. If this place makes you happy, then I am behind you fully."

Waves of shame wash over me. Everything he's been doing lately—the dates, the coming home at a decent hour from work, spending time with his family, being honest with Grace—has been done to prove to me how determined he is to make our relationship work. Despite all the drama, neither of us has been happier. I can see it every time he looks at me. But no matter what either of us does, we can't escape what happened between us, what was broken, and my doubts creep up on me, making me believe he's trying to lull me into a false sense of security.

Nothing is going to change if I keep doubting him.

"Christian, I'm sorry," I whisper, tentatively touching his cheek with my hand. He leans into my touch. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm just..."

"I know," he says, pressing his lips against the palm of my hand. "I can't say I blame you; I'm the reason you don't trust my words. But I meant everything I've said: I want your happiness above anything else. Of course I'm going to be curious about anywhere you're spending a majority of your time. Just because I support your determination to be independent doesn't mean I have any intention of ignoring your safety. I want to do background checks on this place, just—" He holds up a hand as I start to argue. "Just basic checks, Ana. Nothing in-depth. Considering what happened in London with Canton Publishing, we can't be too careful."

I blink as his words register, realizing he's being absolutely reasonable. This is a new publishing house and who knows what Elena did with the rest of Christian's money. It couldn't have been strictly for buying into a small London business... "Okay," I acquiesce. "You're right. Do the background check."

He stares at me in surprise. "Really?" he says.

I smile. "Yes, really. Despite past behavior, I truly appreciate and understand your protective side. It's just difficult to forget some of your more... overbearing moments."

His face breaks into a smirk. "Understandable. I'll get my team on the background check first thing tomorrow. When is your interview?"

"Thursday morning," I tell him.

He nods. "I'll have results long before then," he assures me, jerking his head towards the library door. "Come. I'd like to see my son."

 _And I'd like to continue what we were doing before..._

* * *

For the rest of the evening, Ana and I maintained a safe distance from one another, as we didn't think our son needed to be traumatized any further than he has been by having to watch his parents maul each other right in front of him. Even after we put him to bed, though, we didn't pick up where we left off. I want to. I'm pretty sure she wants to. But we have to have some semblance of control; of all the times I envisioned us rekindling that part of our relationship, none of them occurred in the library on the couch. Not that that doesn't have its merits. I want it, if it happens, to be thoughtful and romantic. Maybe starting with a bath where I wash her reverently from head to toe, letting my fingers trail off to tease her nipples a little longer than necessary, placing soft, teasing kisses all across her smooth, beautiful skin. Then taking her to our bed. No guest bed. No couch. _Our bed._ Taking my time exploring her body, reacquainting myself with her inch-by-inch, reminding myself of what I nearly lost and swearing to never let her go again.

"Fuck," I mutter, adjusting my pants under the desk.

I manage to avert my mind's attention to Ana's news about a job interview later this week. It was surprising to say the least. We haven't discussed her returning to work in weeks. I'm certainly not going to stop her. For one, I have a feeling forbidding her to work would be a deal breaker for our relationship. She spent five months living on her own, building her independence and self-confidence that I managed to destroy. I like this new Ana. A lot. She's more like the girl I first fell in love with. I know she doesn't need me to live her life—on some level, that hurts, because I know I need her to live mine. I can't force her to live within the confines of this house for the rest of her life. I don't; it's not fair to expect that of her.

Old habits die hard, though, so the first thing I did upon entering my study while Ana showers before bed—which I'm trying not to think about too much—was call Welch and tell him to find out whatever he could about Golden Gate Publishing.

"I won't have my wife working for mentally unstable goat fuckers," I tell him, ignoring the huff of laughter on the other end of the phone. "Find out who owns the place, find out who their investors are. I want answers by lunch tomorrow."

Welch immediately agreed and I hung up shortly thereafter, turning my attention to another stack of paperwork. After Carrick told me he'd been doing digging into Lucy's activities, I did my own digging in both Lucy's and Elena's lives. Despite having already discovered the connection between the two women and their determination to break up my marriage, every time I think about it, I feel betrayed. There was a point I trusted both of these women. No matter how much I dwell on this, the feeling of wishing I'd been able to see past their façades only becomes stronger. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I've done. Even if Ana does.

It seems Elena has continued her "investment" with Canton Publishing. I haven't been able to find the amount of money she's spent thus far, but I know it's nowhere near three million dollars. A decent chunk of it was deposited in Lucy's account over the last few months—I'm still not sure why this is. Travel accommodations to follow me to Germany and London are a possibility, but Lucy has her own money for this. She's certainly not destitute, despite running a non-profit organization. This, of course, sends up red flags. I know her organization is real—I did my own checking up when I first met her. Even if her family has money, there's no way non-profit anything should be pulling that sort of income.

Then, of course, there's Elena herself. I've been digging deep in order to find a way to keep her out of our lives. Restraining orders will only work for so long and she doesn't respond to verbal threats. I have to ruin her—her business, her reputation, her livelihood, whatever that might be right now. This is something I normally reserve for people who have gone beyond slighting me, which Elena has. It is something I should have done years ago. Apparently, when it comes down to it, I'm sentimental. Who knew.

The more digging I do, the deeper this entire thing seems to get. I think I've found something to incriminate both of them at the same time and once my information returns, I will have no qualms about executing my plans.

My next order of business is reading an update from my lawyers about Lucy's upcoming trial. The date has been set. They are once again urging me to consider returning to London to be present. I'm torn. I want to put all of this behind us, move on with our lives, but I want to ensure Lucy receives the maximum punishment for what she's done.

There's a soft knock on my open door and I'm torn from my thoughts. Ana stands just outside the study, dressed in her pajamas, her hair still wet from her shower. I smile at the sight of her. "Hi," I say quietly, gesturing for her to enter.

"Hi." She crosses the room, standing in front of my desk. "What are you so lost in thought about?"

I hesitate. After unintentionally making her recall my controlling ways of the past, I'm reluctant to bring up even more drama. I have to remind myself about our promise to be open and honest with one another. I sigh heavily. "Lucy's trial is coming up," I say, watching her expression closely. "Our lawyers are requesting that I be in attendance and I was just thinking about our options."

"Oh," she says in a small, surprised voice. "Would it be better if we were there?"

I don't miss the _we_. "Possibly," I draw out. "With our testimony, it's more likely that she'll be found guilty, despite all the evidence that shows she is, without a doubt."

Ana nods slowly before walking around the desk. I immediately back up my chair and she sits in my lap. We take a moment to grin shyly at each other. "Well, if it will mean she's out of our lives for good, maybe it would be a good idea for us to be there," she says, leaning against me. "And yes, if you go, so do I. That's not negotiable, Christian. I'm not letting you face this on your own."

I hadn't planned on arguing her self-invitation and it's surprisingly soothing to have her telling me she intends to remain by my side, despite knowing a trial will only renew her hurts and fears and everything else that's gone along with my affair and our son's kidnapping. "You're sure you want to go through that?" I ask, reaching out to touch her face.

"Closure, Christian," she tells me. "I want this to be over and the only way I'm ever going to get past it is to know she isn't getting away with anything."

I sigh. "Okay, then," I tell her, kissing her chin. "I'll make the arrangements. The trial is in a month. We're trying to keep everything as low profile as we can, but there are chances media will be swarming us from the moment we land in London."

"I don't care," she informs me. "I'm not about to let anybody think they've driven us apart again. If you go, I go. End of story."

I can't help grinning at her words. I love this woman's stubbornness and her determination to prove she hasn't lost what others, myself included, tried to take from her. "You're amazing, you know," I tell her softly, kissing her briefly and ignoring the confused look on her face. "No one can keep you down for long, can they?"

She gives me a look of utmost reluctance, but at my encouraging nod, she speaks. "You almost did," she admits sadly.

I close my eyes as her words strike me, knowing they are full of truth. "And for that I will always be sorry," I say. "If anybody else had hurt you the way I have, I'd kill them. I don't want to see you cry, Ana, and I never want to see you hurt. If I have my way, you'll never do either again."

She smiles weakly. "Not even you have that much control over things, Christian," she says. "But I appreciate the sentiment. At the same time, I don't want to see you giving up too much of yourself, not even for me. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you, good, bad, dark... I don't want you to lose the things that make you _you._ "

I return her smile, pulling her closer to me. "I won't, baby," I promise her. "Because the thing that makes me _me_ is having you in my life. I have no intention of ever giving that up again."

With her sparkling eyes and brilliant smile, I don't think I could ever be happier than I am in this moment. Not that that will stop me from trying to see this expression on her face every day for the rest of my life. After a sweet kiss that neither of us wants to end, we resignedly separate to different bedrooms, and I silently vow that I will do whatever it takes to bring us back together in the way that we perfected together, in our bedroom, and in our bed.

I don't know how much longer I can lie in a guest bed imagining my wife just down the hall sleeping alone without resorting to drastic measures... Especially after this afternoon.


	29. Chapter 29

Thursday morning arrives quickly. Once Christian's background checks on Golden Gate Publishing returned without anything suspicious, my eagerness only mounted. Part of me had half-expected to find out this place was a ruse or some sort setup by Elena. Following recent events, I wouldn't put anything past her anymore. I truly don't understand her fascination with ruining my life. Aside from the fact that I tamed a man she trained from a young age to believe the best he could ever hope for would be to dominate and fuck little brown-haired girls and follow her around like the trained puppy he became, and perhaps ruining an indecently expensive dress by throwing a lethal cocktail at her one night years ago, I haven't done anything to her.

If Christian is good to his word—and he damn well better be—we won't be dealing with Elena for much longer. He still doesn't want to vocalize his plans, but he assures me that this time he will be successful.

"Nearly ready?"

I jump, having been staring in the mirror at my own reflection for I don't know how long. Christian is standing behind me, leaning on the doorframe, fully dressed for work and looking incredibly good. "Just about," I say, turning back to myself. I'm dressed simply for my job interview—pencil skirt, light blue blouse, heels. Judging by the glazed look in Christian's eyes, I'm good to go. Either that or he's about to drag me by my hair to his cave...

Now there's an idea... I file that away for future consideration.

I turn around to face Christian. "Do I look all right?" I ask nervously, smoothing down a wrinkle in my skirt.

He smiles slowly, pushing himself off the doorframe, crossing the room to stand in front of me. "Better than all right," he tells me softly, lifting my chin to look up at him. "You're beautiful. Those people won't know what hit them when you walk through their door. Just make sure they don't get too close or I might just have to hit them myself."

I giggle at his growled threat, knowing he's only half-serious. But the half of him that is serious is probably deadly serious and won't hesitate to tear off the arms of anyone who attempts to invade my personal space. I slide my hands up his arms and lock my fingers behind his neck. "You have nothing to worry about," I whisper against his lips before closing the little remaining distance. A kiss that began innocently quickly turns into something very much less so as he presses me against the bathroom counter. He cradles my cheek and moves his lips across my neck to my ear. I gasp as his teeth pull on the lobe before he pulls away, leaving me whimpering in protest.

"I will always worry about you," he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose. When he is confident I won't fall if he lets me go, he steps back, smirking. "I do love putting that flush in your cheeks, Mrs. Grey." Before I can convince him to make me flush some more, his mercurial mood switches yet again. "Now, once your interview is finished, why don't you come by Grey House and I'll take you out for a celebratory lunch?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Who says they'll even offer me a job?"

"They'd be stupid not to," he says bluntly. "Biased though I may be, you're a publishing house's dream, Ana. You're determined, you're focused, and you're passionate about your job... Ana, once this place hires you, Grey Publishing will have a run for its money. You and I could be competition."

His teasing words throw be back into reality again. "Competition?" I whisper in horror. I can't think of anybody who would actually want to be in competition with Christian Grey, least of all me, his wife.

He lets out a short laugh. "Baby, I'm kidding," he assures me. "Technically, yes it would be considered competition somehow, but I have no intention of doing anything about it. Grey Publishing is yours—hell, everything is yours. So really, you're competing against yourself."

I grin shyly at his boyish smile. "Aren't you running late for dictating your empire?" I ask him.

"You mean _your_ empire?" He's still grinning. "But yes, I am. I just wanted to wish you luck, not that you'll need it."

"Well, either way, thank you," I tell him, his good mood immediately lowering my nervousness. "And as for lunch, that would be wonderful."

"Good," he says simply, kissing me again for far too brief a time. "Don't want to mess up your lipstick." His words are whispered against my lips before he pulls away. "I'll see you soon, Anastasia."

Before I can register the dual meaning of his words, he's out of the bathroom and I can hear him downstairs talking to Teddy before he leaves.

When I returned to Seattle, there was no set timeline for my reconciliation with Christian in all things. I was determined not to fall into bed with him or let myself be blinded by the things I had been blinded by before. It's becoming much tougher to keep my resolve strong—I imagine Christian's having the same problem. The moments when we find ourselves pressed against some surface, whether it is a door or a couch, are becoming more frequent, more heated, and more difficult to stop. Christian, though, true to his word, hasn't pushed things any further than a little groping and grinding. He says it's because he wants me to be certain and ready, and he doesn't want me to regret rekindling that element of our relationship. Part of me appreciates his willingness to wait and respect the lines. Part of me can't help but wonder whether he really wants me in that way anymore. It's the part of me that will never forget what happened between him and Lucy, and everything I found out about the affair. One second he seems almost desperate for me, but he cools off in the next and we go about our evenings as normal.

Logically, I know his reasons for doing what he's doing are mostly for my benefit. Having sex while everything is so fresh in our minds could have negative repercussions on our relationship. For all I know, the moment it finally happens, my mind would choose to remind me of the video, thus destroying everything we've built up since I came home. I don't want that. I want to remember Christian, _my Christian_ , the way he was before things started going pear-shaped. The sweet, loving, romantic man he has been lately. I want our first time since the affair to be perfect.

It's occurred to me that our weekend on _The Grace_ might lead to us falling into bed and I know it's going to be almost impossible to resist the urge—the two of us alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean after all the sexual tension that's been building up between us—and I don't think I can find it in me to even try to resist.

* * *

My morning has been busy. I've been in meetings with Ros discussing several different deals in the works, had phone conversations with several lawyers about a number of things ranging from the upcoming trial with Lucy, dealing with Elena, and getting everything transferred into Ana's name. The paperwork she signed was more for my benefit than actually being legal; once the official documents are drawn up, Ana and I will sign them together and she'll own my life. Having had time to think about it, I'm surprisingly comfortable with this. Publically, GEH is still mine. Ana won't have to face the press or deal with any of the issues that come to hand. The only real change will be if I ever do anything to hurt her to the point that she wants to leave me or divorce me; she has the power to do whatever she wishes with my life's work. And considering how much my business means to me, it's just an extra bit of incentive to never fuck up again.

Not that I could ever put Ana through something like this again. I won't lose her. I'm more dedicated than I was before to keep her in my life, and I was pretty fucking dedicated before the last couple years. I wince at the thought of how I behaved during that time, before even meeting Lucy. Ana has never brought up the comparison, but I know I treated her like she was my submissive at times—the dictating whether she could work, making her run her daily schedules by me, denying her things she wanted, like a second child. Sex was always on my terms and I know there was once or twice that we parted and she was left unsatisfied.

That will never happen again. Her satisfaction, happiness, and general well-being are now my number one concern and will remain to be so for the rest of my life.

Before lunch, I'm making arrangements for this coming weekend and our trip on _The Grace._ Mac will stock everything we'll need and have the boat ready for Friday night. We're not actually pulling out until Saturday morning, but I've got some plans for the night before that I want to put into action. There's a knock on my door as I'm giving Mac last minute instructions and I don't even get the chance to tell whoever it is to leave me the fuck alone—the door opens without my invitation and my shouted threat of immediate firing is caught in my throat at the sight of my wife. Her eyebrows are tentatively raised, silently asking me if it's okay for her to enter. I nod quickly, realizing I'm still on the phone.

"Make it happen," I snap at Mac before slamming my phone back onto the cradle. I make a mental note to send him a text later—he's one of the few people who work for me that I don't act like a dick towards.

"Is this a bad time?" Ana asks quietly.

"No," I reply, smiling and standing as she enters. "How'd it go?" Normally I'm pretty good at reading her moods, knowing when she's lying or how she's feeling, but right now her face is expressionless and I have no idea what she's thinking for a change.

She shrugs slightly. "It went," she says quietly.

I still have no idea what happened at her interview... The look on her face suggests she was turned down for the job. "Can you elaborate a little?" I ask tentatively, uncertain whether I should comfort her or not. I'm almost tempted to head to this publishing house myself and kick a few asses for hurting my wife.

"Well," she says slowly, sighing as she finally meets my gaze fully. I hold my breath. "Let's just say I hope Gail won't mind watching Teddy fulltime starting in two weeks."

It takes a moment or two to work out what she means, since her tone and facial expression are both full of rejection. Not until I see a slight sparkle in her eyes do I relax and grin. "I knew you could do it," I tell her, my voice full of pride as I pull her into my arms. "Congratulations."

She returns my hug. "Thank you," she says into my shoulder. We stand like this for several moments before she pulls away enough to look up at me, her smile wide. "I'll tell you about it over lunch..." She trails off, looking uncertain. "Unless you're busy, of course."

I smile at her, taking her face in my hands. "Baby, I'm never too busy for you." I kiss her far too briefly before releasing her and grabbing my suit jacket, then leading her out of my office. After informing Andrea that I'll be out of the building for the next couple hours and to forward all business-related questions to Ros, I take my wife's hand and lead her to the elevator. The doors open immediately and we step in. Our gazes lock as the doors close again and we begin to descend. We don't speak, continuing our little staring contest. Her gaze is darkening and her breath is becoming shallower; I cock my head slightly to the side, feeling my pants becoming a little uncomfortable. Just before we reach the lobby, she bites her lip and I growl, immediately reaching over to release it. "I thought we'd discussed that," I whisper huskily.

She flushes and averts her eyes. I smirk in triumph. Triumph in what, I'm not entirely sure, but I have the feeling I should be proud of how I affect her.

During our walk down the street to a small café we used to visit whenever Ana joined me for lunch, we chat easily. I hesitate before opening the door for her. We haven't been here together in nearly a year and the last time had been a very tense afternoon as we were fighting at the time.

Returning my gaze with a challenging and encouraging with one of her own, I finally push past memories far from my mind and we enter. Immediately, we're led to our usual table towards the back. I pull out Ana's chair then sit across from her. We place our orders and wait. Ana tells me about her job. She's been offered a senior editor's position. Her immediate supervisor is, for a nice change of pace, a woman named Caroline Gold. The staff is small; aside from Ana, there is only one other senior editor. Above them are Caroline and her husband Joe who own the company. Ana can decide whether to hire her own assistant, but given the current light workload spread between the staff, she probably wouldn't need one immediately. The starting salary is decent, even if it is unnecessary for her; I keep the thought to myself. And most importantly of all, Ana seems very excited about her new job.

"For a bit I wasn't sure I'd get the position," she says between bites of her grilled chicken. "My work record is spotty at best and for a while there's nothing at all expect caring for Teddy." I wince at the unintentional jab and keep my gaze locked on my lunch. "Of course they wanted to know about my very short stint and sudden departure from Canton Publishing, so I had to tell them I left for personal reasons. But apparently Thomas gave me a very good reference and that worked in my favor."

 _Thomas fucking Canton._ I haven't given him much thought since we left London, but I'll never forget how I felt when Ana told me she went on a date with him and kissed him afterwards. Or when I walked into the police station to find them holding hands. I know that feeling was only a fraction of what Ana must have felt watching that video of Lucy and me, and that is yet another of the one million reasons I will never put her through something like that again. I never want to think about her being with anybody else but me. "I bet he did," I mutter darkly.

Ana gives me a withering look. "He wasn't that bad," she insists.

I beg to differ, but I know better than to comment. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that everything has been arranged for our weekend outing," I say, watching her expression closely. It takes a minute for my words to register, but once they do, she smiles slowly. "I thought we'd head out tomorrow evening, have dinner on the boat, then set sail early Saturday. How's that sound?"

"Perfect," she says shyly. I grin back.

Before returning to work, I walk Ana to her car and can't resist the urge to thoroughly kiss her, giving her what I hope will be a tease of things to come. Wide-eyed and out of breath, Ana gets into the car and leaves. I wait until she's out of sight and return to my office with a slight spring in my step.

* * *

"Hello?"

I answer the phone breathlessly, having only just reached it after the fifth ring. Teddy and I have been playing hide and seek in the house and I've forgotten just how many hiding spots there are here, and Teddy apparently knows them all. There's no response on the other end of the line and after a moment, I hang up, assuming I reached the phone a little too late.

"Found you!"

I turn around to find my son looking out of breath himself and beaming in triumph. "So you did," I praise, bending down to grab him around the waist and pick him up, tickling his ribs until he giggles madly. There truly is not a better sound in the world than my son's laugh.

"Can we play again?" he asks when I put him down again.

I agree and turn around to begin counting, smiling at the sound of his retreating footsteps. He never really grasps the concept of keeping quiet while hiding, lest the seeker locate him. When I reach fifty, I turn around, nearly having a heart attack when I find Christian standing in my path. "Why must you always sneak up on me?" I demand, playfully slapping his shoulder.

He chuckles. "I can't help my stealthy nature," he responds easily. "But you can only imagine the sight of walking upon my wife, who is facing the wall and counting out loud to herself."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I glare. "I'll have you know I'm playing hide and seek with our son," I tell him sternly.

"Is that so?" he asks thoughtfully. "And do we know where aforementioned son is hiding?"

"I haven't had the chance to go seek him, since someone interrupted my progress."

His smile widens. "Terribly sorry, Mrs. Grey," he responds, not looking the least bit apologetic. "Shall I help you seek our son?"

I snicker. "Sure," I say. "He'll be pleased to see you; he's wanted to play with you all day."

"Can't think of a better way to spend an evening," he says sincerely, reaching out to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. I close my eyes slightly at the touch and shiver. When I open my eyes again, I see his eyes have darkened in desire. He closes his own eyes briefly and the expression is gone. "Shall we?"

I nod, feeling strangely disappointed. I'm not sure what I expected to happen in the middle of the house with Teddy running around somewhere; I suddenly can't wait to be on _The Grace..._

The rest of the evening is spent playing with our son. Christian and Teddy have been chasing each other around for hours with no end in sight. They slow down only long enough to have dinner before continuing their imaginary game. While I'm doing dishes, again, the phone rings and I answer it.

"Hello?"

Again, there's no response. Glancing at the caller id, I see the number is blocked. After a few seconds, I hang up, shaking off the uneasy feeling building in my stomach.

"Who was that?" Christian asks, popping his head into the kitchen.

I shrug. "Wrong number probably," I respond. He nods and retreats. Not five minutes pass before the phone is ringing. Again. "Hello?" I answer it before the second ring, listening hard for any sound on the other end. There's nothing. "Look, I don't know who you're trying to reach, but I think you've got the wrong number. Please stop calling." I hang up the phone, staring at it with a furrowed brow. Only a handful of people have our home number—immediate family and security. It's unlisted and a borderline state secret. Anybody Christian does business with only calls his cell. I don't really have contact with people outside my family and the few I do haven't got the number either.

"Ana?" Christian is back, looking concerned. "Was that the phone again?"

"Yes," I tell him, still staring at the phone. "That's the third call I've gotten today and every time, nobody replies."

He leans against the wall beside me. "I'll have someone look into it," he says softly. "Don't worry about it."

I nod in response and start to follow Christian back to Teddy. The phone rings again. This time, Christian beats me to it. "Hello," he barks. I watch him silently as annoyance shifts fury. "How the _fuck_ did you get this number?" His jaw tenses as the person on the line apparently replies. "I swear to fucking god, if you come near me or my family again, I will fucking kill you. This is your last warning." The grip he has on the handset is turning his knuckles nearly translucent. "I don't fucking care what you _think_ you know. Stay away from us."

With that, he takes the phone from his ear and throws it across the room at the wall, shattering it into several pieces. The noise and the sudden violence make me jump as I stare wide-eyed at my husband. He's breathing heavily, his face red in anger, his eyes wild.

"Christian?" I venture quietly.

His eyes turn to me sharply and I see an immediate reaction: his expression softens just a touch as he realizes he's frightened me. "I'm sorry," he mutters tersely.

"Who was it?" My heart is racing as I wonder whether I really want the answer.

Resignation and sorrow fills his eyes. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Elena."

Ice fills my body at the name. I have no words to respond.

"Same old bullshit," he spats. "I don't give into her pleading for forgiveness and she fucking threatens me."

"Threatens you with what?" I ask tentatively.

He runs his hands through his hair. "She's threatening to go to the press with proof of my former lifestyle if I don't cease my plans to bankrupt her."

My eyes widen. "If she goes to the press, she'll expose herself as well," I respond. I'm not entirely sure why this is my main concern, but it was the first thing my mind came up with.

"She's bluffing," he says in an almost comforting manner.

"What if she's not?" I persist, wondering why I'm not letting this drop before his anger returns. "If you have plans to bankrupt her and she's gotten wind of it, she's got nothing left to lose, Christian."

He sighs heavily. "If she's not bluffing," he says slowly, the thoughts of the possible repercussions plainly on his face, "then she goes to the media and outs me. I'll handle it however I can." His eyes meet mine, filled with vulnerability. "Hopefully with you at my side."

Before I realize I'm doing it, I'm crossing the room towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Always," I whisper into his chest. He relaxes significantly and returns my embrace. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," he breathes into my hair. "Ana, I'm sorry. I can't seem to keep her from bothering us..."

For once, I can't blame him for Elena's continual involvement in our lives. I trust he's done all he could to keep her from further contact and her phone call was unsolicited and, judging by the state of our phone, unwanted. "Let's get Teddy put to bed," I say quietly after several silent minutes. Christian nods, eyeing me warily as though he's uncertain whether he's in trouble or not. I smile softly at him, hoping it conveys my non-anger towards him, and we begin our son's bedtime ritual.

While Christian fetches us some wine, I head into the family room where there is a blazing fire and wait for him to join me. Naturally my mind goes straight to Elena and this latest threat. For her to threaten to expose Christian and his lifestyle is probably one of the worst we've faced. His public reputation would be shredded and destroyed. His siblings will know. The information will be out there for when Teddy's old enough to read it. I'm certain Christian's PR and legal team will do whatever they can to stop it before it gets out, but there's only so much they can do. Nothing is stopping Elena from selling her story to tabloids.

This has the potential to ruin everything.

I look up suddenly when Christian sits down beside me, handing me wine glass. I smile thankfully.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'm fine," I respond. "I'm more worried about you."

He smiles sheepishly. "I'm fine as well. And I'm sorry about the phone; I'll have it replaced in the morning."

I chuckle and we drink silently for a couple minutes. "So when you say you plan to bankrupt her," I begin slowly, "what exactly does that entail?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," he says in a surprisingly calm voice. "After Carrick started looking into Lucy's finances, I decided to dig into Elena's. The pair of them has been embezzling funds from Lucy's non-profit organization for close to a year and a half. Without going into too much detail, they could both be looking at jail time—or more jail time in Lucy's case. I'm currently in the process of using what Elena has left monetarily in businesses to repay what they took from the organization."

My curiosity gets the better of me. "What's the organization?" I hear myself asking.

Christian gives me an odd look as though he's wondering why I'm bothering to wonder about anything his ex-mistress did. "It's for trouble teens," he tells me. "Ones that have been abused as children and need to get on the right path."

I feel my stomach flip at the thought of what might have happened if Christian had found a place like that during his formative years rather than being taken in by Elena. I'm trying to block out the thought there might have been a redeeming factor in Lucy, if she hadn't fucked my husband for five months. I can almost see what Christian was drawn to when he met her. Not that that justifies what happened, of course...

"Whatever it is you're thinking," Christian's words interrupt my thoughts, "please stop."

I look at him in surprise.

"I know that look, Ana," he tells me softly. "And all I'm going to say about it is you're better than the both of them put together. I don't want to linger on this; I'm so looking forward to our weekend away and I don't want that brought down by anything, especially Elena fucking Lincoln. We'll have our phone numbers changed and she will never contact us again. By next month, she'll have nothing, but you and I will still have each other. That's what matters right now; they won't win this."

For a moment, I'm frozen as we stare at one another. After that moment, I set aside my drink, then take his to place it beside mine, much to his surprise, and proceed to climb into his lap to kiss him for all I'm worth. He seems in shock at the eagerness with which I use my lips and tongue, but manages to adjust accordingly. When we break apart, I open my eyes to meet his. "I love you," I whisper. It doesn't escape my notice that this is the first time I've said those words without him saying them first in nearly a year.

The look in his eyes tells me he knows it as well. He gives me his thousand megawatt smile. "I love you, too," he whispers. "And this weekend, I want to show you just how much."

His voice is full of conviction and promise, and I suddenly wonder if I'll be able to wait until tomorrow night at the very earliest for him to show me.

He smirks, reading my thoughts. "Patience, baby," he breathes against my lips. "I promise to make it worth the wait."

As we continue our heated kiss, I think to myself that tomorrow evening can't come quickly enough.


	30. Chapter 30

After dropping Teddy off with Kate and Elliot for the weekend, Ana and I are _finally_ on our way to a weekend alone. Neither of us has discussed yesterday's repeated phone calls from Elena, or her latest threats intended to push us apart. I've tripled my efforts to ensure both she and Lucy are ruined, and by the time I left GEH this afternoon, everything was in place to execute Monday morning. I'm now free to enjoy what is truly a rare treat: not only will this weekend be completely free of work-related distractions and stresses, but it is a weekend that truly belongs to me and Anastasia. Once Taylor's security checks finish and Mac gives me a rundown about the state of the boat, it will only be the two of us. To do as we please.

I'm not delusional. I know this weekend will not be all fun and games. As much as I would love to just take her to bed and love her until I can't anymore, I can't rush this. The few times we've had a moment or two alone have been wonderful and it's times like those that I truly believe she's mine again, that she _wants_ to be mine again, in all ways. That's not enough this time, though. It's not enough that she's mine. I need to be hers. I need her to want me to be hers, in all ways. A few heated moments aren't enough to achieve that. I need to gain her trust again. I want to gain her trust. I feel as though I've been as honest as I can be with her.

She knows the details of my affair with Lucy, down to my feelings at the time for both her and Lucy. She's still here. She knows I considered leaving her for Lucy. She's still here. She continues to be harassed by my past. And yet, she's still here. Despite knowing she loves me, I still can't think of a single thing in my life that I've done to deserve her, but I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of everything she's ever given of me, even if I don't always fully believe I am.

At long last, we've reached the dock. Ana and I grin at each other as we get out of the car, not letting go of each other's hands as we approach the boat. Taylor and Sawyer board ahead of us and go about their security sweeps. I can see Ana beginning to frown as she watches them move around, so I pull her into my arms, wrapping mine around her shoulders, while her arms go around my waist. This is right. This is where I belong. Judging by the little sigh of contentment she emits, she feels the same.

From the very beginning I knew this woman affected me more than any other. She was a breath of fresh air. A light at the end of a tunnel of pure darkness. She saw in me something that no one else ever had, something I hadn't even known I possessed. I hadn't believed in love until I met her. And like the fucking moron I am, I threw it away like it meant nothing to me. I know nobody will believe me—nobody including Ana—but I truly never stopped loving her. The longer I go on without the influence of Lucy and Elena, the more I realize how delusional I was about my feelings for Lucy. I cared about her. I _thought_ I had fallen in love with her. But when it came down to it, the only one I wanted was Ana.

The night she confronted me about the tape... I felt my entire sense of being shred into tiny pieces. I knew that was it, that I'd actually done something to make her hate me and want to leave me. I didn't care about anything after that aside from somehow trying to fix the things that I so selfishly destroyed. It occurred to me much later that if I had truly been in love with Lucy and wanted to further whatever future we might have together, I could have just gone to her that night and let Ana live her own life. But the thought of seeing Lucy after realizing exactly the mess I'd made was abhorrent. I rejected all her calls and attempts to contact me.

I suppose it doesn't matter what I do or say. Somebody is always going to believe the worst of me no matter how hard I try. They will always believe I don't deserve Anastasia—which has always been and will always be true—and that my motives for trying to win back her heart are down to my selfishness and the need to control my life. That's partly true, I suppose. I am selfish for not letting her live her life without dumping all my shit on her shoulders every time we turn around. But she's here in my arms by her own choice. If at any point she told me she wanted nothing to do with me or our marriage anymore, I would have let her go. Reluctantly. Grudgingly. And I never would have been the same, but I would have done it.

Even now, after everything that's happened, if she truly believes she would be happier without me, I will step back from her.

I've seen marriages fall apart from afar. Husbands cheating on their wives. I've heard what people think about the few wives who do decide to repair the damage done—some see them as weak for putting themselves right back in that position again. But Ana is far from weak. She always has been. She could easily live her life without me in it and be just fine. Instead she's chosen to be with me. I suppose the difference between our situation and some of the others is that there is something left here to be salvaged. She's going to continue to be wary of me, I know that, and I can't blame her for it. I just hope she doesn't regret her decision to forgive me.

"What are you thinking?"

I'm pulled from my thoughts and look down into my wife's big, beautiful blue eyes. "Just that I want this weekend to be perfect for you and everything you want it to be," I tell her not untruthfully. I don't need to burden her or our weekend with my doubts.

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "And what is it you think I want this weekend to be?" she asks me primly.

I only smirk as Taylor and Sawyer depart the boat and approach us.

"All set, sir," Taylor informs us. "We'll be nearby until sunup, and return to pick you up on Sunday evening."

"Excellent," I say briskly, nodding to the two men. "Have a good weekend."

Without waiting for their response, I take Ana by the hand and lead her onto the boat. The moment I feel the familiar sensation of gentle rocking on the water, an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Out here on the sea, I'm free. It doesn't even matter that we're still docked and will be until morning. This is my haven, my safe place, and that's only made better knowing Ana is with me.

"Why are they staying until sunup?"

Her question brings me back to reality. I sigh. "Just in case," I say quietly, watching her expression closely. I'm hoping she understands my underlying meaning without needing further elaboration; that sort of discussion would only spoil our time together. She sucks in a sharp breath, but nods. I nod back and smile tightly. "Come. It's almost time for sunset and I thought we could have dinner while we watched..."

* * *

Despite the realization that security would be keeping an eye on us until we set sail in the morning, "just in case", I am determined to keep things light this evening. It's clear Christian has been planning this for some time, especially when I see a little table set for two, a candle in the middle separating plates covered with silver domed lids. Somewhere, music is playing softly and as Christian promised, we have a perfect view of the sun setting over the horizon.

Reluctantly letting go of my hand, Christian crosses to the table where a bottle of wine has been chilling in a bucket of ice. With a questioning raised eyebrow, he asks if I'd like a glass and I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious for some reason. Perhaps it's due to the way his eyes keep darting towards me as he pours our wine glasses like he can't get enough of me. I love that look. I've missed that look. I haven't seen that look in nearly a year. It's different than the one he wears when he wants me; that one is filled with lust while this is pure, unadulterated love.

I wait for a snarky comment from my subconscious, but as luck would have it, she's been tied up and gagged for the weekend. It will be a nice reprieve.

He's relaxed. That too is a nice reprieve; after everything that's happened, I briefly doubted that he'd be able to divert his mind long enough to actually enjoy our time away. We need this time to be ourselves, as much as that's possible after the last year.

The moment I stepped onto the boat, I recalled the first time he ever brought me here. Of course that line of thought leads to the things we did below deck and as Christian turns towards me to bring me my wine glass, I feel myself flush under his darkening gaze.

"Hungry, Mrs. Grey?"

Three words. How is it that it only takes him three fucking words that to anybody else would seem utterly innocuous, but leaves me feeling weak-kneed? I think it's something to do with the double entendre he tends to insert into aforementioned utterly innocuous words. He could mean food or he could mean something that has absolutely nothing to do with food and everything to do with the things we did the first time we were here together... Part of me wants to not let him see how much he affects me, at least not yet, while another part wants to tell him to forget about dinner and just drag him below deck myself. Somehow, I manage the former.

"I suppose I could eat," I say mildly, taking the glass he offers.

His expression falters slightly at my tone and I'm momentarily proud that I can make him feel uncertain when he's normally so confident. He clears his throat and turns away enough to pull out a chair for me. I smile at him and sit down, waiting for him to walk around to sit across from me. His confidence has returned with a sip of his wine and he gestures for me to lift the lid off my plate. Over our simple dinner, we laugh and talk like it truly is our third date, and I can see all residual tension leaving both of us. When we finish our dinner, I look over the scattered dishes uncertainly, wondering if we should clean up. Christian sees me eyeing the mess. "Don't worry about it," he tells me quietly. "We'll deal with it tomorrow."

I nod. The sun has set and the sky is very nearly black with white stars dotting here and there. Despite still being tethered to the dock and knowing Taylor and Sawyer were keeping an eye on things for us, we are completely alone. Even Christian couldn't have arranged a more romantic setting. He stands from his seat, crossing over to me, and holds out his hands. "Would you like to dance, Anastasia?" he asks softly, his eyes just barely hiding his desire.

I smile, placing my hand in his and allow him to pull me up. With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and the music rises in volume. Once that's taken care of, he places that arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his body, and we begin to move around the boat slowly and effortlessly as though we were dancing on air. Our eyes never leave each other's gaze and we don't speak; we don't need to. This is what matters tonight: two people who had been so close to losing what they had built together over the years due to miscommunication, deceit, selfishness, and very bad choices trying to move on. It occurs to me that most women might have made the decision to cut all ties from the man who had put them through such pain, that they couldn't possibly see any chance to rebuild. But the fact that I still love Christian, and he still loves me, is enough for me to want to try. I don't feel weak for returning to my husband, I don't feel that I'm just damaging myself even further, and I really don't feel the need to explain my reasons to anyone, least of all those who clearly don't understand just how deeply love can run.

It doesn't matter that I don't know what the future will hold for us. What matters is that I'm in his arms again and I feel whole when I'm here. End of story.

I have no idea how long we spend dancing, no idea how many songs have changed since we began, but when I feel myself returning to reality, I notice we're not really moving anymore. We're just standing in place, swaying slightly. My head is nestled between his shoulder and neck, and I can feel his heart beating a steady pace in his chest. He's abandoned the dancing position of earlier and has his arms around my shoulders, his cheek resting on the top of my head.

"Has our third date lived up to expectations?" I hear him ask, feeling the words grumbling him his chest.

I smile against his neck. "So far, so good," I mutter back. I feel him chuckle. "But I have the feeling you've got much more planned."

"Hmm," he murmurs, apparently not finding it necessary to expand. "Actually, there is something I want to talk to you about..." I stiffen in his arms and feel my color draining from my body. I have no idea why his words spark this reaction in me, but they have, and I realize I've been waiting for something negative to happen. When I meet his gaze, though, the wariness leaves me at the sight of his soft, reassuring smile and sparkling eyes. "Nothing to worry about. I just wanted to run an idea past you."

Still uncertain, I nod as he takes my hand and leads me to the edge of the boat. When he turns to me again, his nervousness is clear and he swallows hard before his eyes swing up to meet mine. "Ana, I know I've made a mess of things," he says quietly, taking both my hands in his. "And I know that is an incredible understatement. But I wanted to do something that might show you what it means that you've decided to give me yet another chance that I probably don't actually deserve." I open my mouth to comment, but the pleading expression on his face silences me. He waits for me to nod that I won't interrupt to go on. "I've been wracking my brain for weeks and I think I finally came up with something."

"What?" I ask cautiously, having absolutely no idea where he could be going with this. I thought signing the documents that put GEH in my hands was his big act of proving something to me. Apparently not.

"Giving you GEH was part of it," he says, reading my thoughts. "But I wanted something more... meaningful and, I don't know... symbolic. So here it is..." I'm holding my breath as he slowly drops down to one knee, reaching into his pocket. My heart has stopped completely when he opens a small black box to reveal what looks to be an engagement ring. I truly don't think I could be any more confused than I am currently. "I want to marry you, Anastasia. Again. I want to rewrite our history so I can show you exactly what you mean to me. I want us to have a fresh start and I want to prove that I'm worthy of you and your love, even if it takes the rest of my life."

My brain is numb as I look between the ring and my kneeling husband. I say the first thing that comes to my mind: "Christian," my voice is faint, "we're already married."

He just grins, having apparently expected that response from me. "I know," he says softly.

"So you want to... what, renew our vows?"

His head shakes, his eyes not leaving mine. "No, Ana. I don't want to renew our vows. I didn't so much break them as I decimated them. I want to make new vows to you and unlike the last ones, I will _never_ break them. I love you, Ana, and I swear to you, my heart, my soul, and my entire being belong to you. I will never take them from you again. So what do you say, Ana? Will you marry me again?"

Never in a million years did I ever consider this a possibility. His face is excited and nervous and earnest all at once and I can't help the incredulous smile or laugh that bubbles through my chest. I laughed with abandon, unable to control the reaction. When I am finally able to see straight again, I notice Christian has dropped my hands and was now sitting back on both his heels looking rejected and hurt and confused and humiliated. I stop laughing immediately. "Oh god," I muttered, dropping to my knees in front of him. "Christian, no... I'm so sorry."

"All you had to was say no," he said shakily, staring at the floor. "I just thought..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly, glances in disdain at the ring that had fallen from his hand, and starts to stand.

I grasp his hand wildly to stop him, pulling him back into position and turning his head so he's forced to look at me. I've hurt him in a way only I could. He truly believes I'm telling him no, when that couldn't be any further from the truth. "Christian, I'm sorry. I'm not telling you no! I was just... surprised. Of everything I thought might happen this weekend, I didn't even consider this a possibility." I reach out blindly, fumbling for the ring box to press back into his hand. His brow furrows in confusion. "Christian, nothing would make me happier than remarrying you, but you have to know it's not necessary. You and I have nothing to prove to the world; we're together and that's what matters."

He shakes his head. "I don't give a shit about the world, Ana," he tells me in a low voice. "And I don't want to prove anything to anyone except you. It doesn't have to be a big thing—you, me, a witness or two... I want to do this for you. I owe you this much."

I take a deep breath. "I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, but if it means that much to you..." I watch as his face switches to unbelievable hope. "Yes, Christian, I will remarry you."

The look on his face is one I haven't seen since the last time I told him I would marry him. All at once, he's relieved, ecstatic, and awestruck. With a sound that is somewhere between a gasping sob and a laugh, he reaches out and pulls me towards him, burying his face in my neck, his breathing uneven. I return his embrace, wanting him as close to me as possible for as long as possible. Before I realize what's happening, I'm in his lap as his hot mouth explores my neck, my shoulders... anywhere he can find the slightest bit of exposed skin. He's hardening against me and my brain loses all sense of logic. I want him. Probably more than I've ever wanted him before. As though reading my thoughts, he manages to stand up with me still in his arms. Kissing me ravenously, I realize we're moving and I have a vague notion of where we're headed.

In my next moment of sudden, brief clarity, I realize I'm pressed against a wall with Christian moving against me as though his life will end if we stop. Hell, I don't think I could stop right now if I wanted. All the recent moments between us have built up the tension and we're finally back to the bare essentials of what made us fall in love from the very beginning.

To my intense surprise, Christian pulls away from me with a tortured groan, resting his forehead against mine. "Ana, tell me what to do," he breathes, staring into my eyes.

I'm surprised by his request. Never before have I had to tell him where I wanted something like this to lead. It occurs to me just how uncertain the last several months have made him. On the outside, he seems to be the same old Christian most times, if not a bit more controlled while on the inside he is still my lost boy who has no clue how to proceed. Reason returns to me suddenly. I remove my legs from around his waist and he releases me, a pained expression on his face. I try to smile at him to communicate my thoughts, but my mind can truly only concentrate on one thing. Still looking into his eyes, I reach into his pocket, feeling around for the item I have a vague recollection of him shoving in there before we came below deck. He hisses through his teeth as my hand brushes against his erection. With his dark eyes wide with lust trained on me, I pull my hand back out, showing him the ring he'd presented me before. It takes him a moment to catch on, but with shaking fingers, he takes it from me, then takes my left hand in his, and still watching my every expression, slides the ring onto the appropriate finger with his right.

"Now what?" he whispers, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

"Now you finish what you started, Mr. Grey," I tell him teasingly before letting my expression turn serious. "Now I want you to make love to me."

His eyes slide closed and his face takes on a blissful expression as though he'd just been handed the greatest treasure in the world. "I never thought I would hear you say those words to me again," he says wistfully. "And I have never been so pleased to be wrong."

I smile at him, taking his hand in mine, and lead the way towards the bedroom.

* * *

I have never been so terrified in my life. Not from the thought of making love to my wife, but the thought that this is all some incredibly fantastical dream and that at any moment, I'm going to wake up in the guest bedroom. Alone. I can hardly believe the turns the evening has taken. Seeing Ana laugh at my proposal had been the worst feeling in the world and I believed that was it for us. But it wasn't. She wants me despite everything and she will be mine again and I will be hers again.

Still, I'm a little uncertain as we enter the bedroom. I had hoped, fantasized, that we would get here sometime soon, but I'd remained unconvinced that she could see past the hurt I've caused her in order to be here with me. She seems confident about this decision as we stop just short of the bed and she turns to me, looking breathtakingly shy. Her face is flushed, her blue eyes darkened, her lips swollen from kissing me. She's never looked more appealing or sexy. We stare at one another, each waiting for the other to make the next move. I need her to initiate this. I don't want her to follow my lead because she wants to please me.

I close my eyes as she steps close to me and kisses me with such sweetness that my heart nearly melts. Her fingers slide into my hair to hold me in place and my shaking hands grasp her hips, holding her firm. It's only a moment before her lips move to kiss my jawline, my ear, my neck, and I barely register her fingers sliding slowly down my neck, my chest, reaching the hem of my shirt. My breathing hitches as I feel her touch the bare skin of my stomach, and every inch of my body is being set aflame as she starts to push my shirt up. Resignedly, I break our gaze long enough to pull it over my head and drop it somewhere on the floor. She steps back then, takes a deep breath, and I watch raptly and hungrily as she removes her own shirt, dropping it somewhere behind her. I am under her spell as I take in her perfect, beautiful skin, the outline of her body... Her gorgeous breasts that are still restrained by her bra. She's looking at me in the same way and somehow, my desire for her grows.

Unable to remain standing much longer, I sit down on the foot of the bed, drinking her in. I hold out my hand to her and she shyly takes it, allowing me to pull her to stand directly in front of me, between my legs. Without hesitation, I kiss every exposed inch of her belly and chest, trailing feather light kisses from one hip to the other and back, teasing the outline of her belly button with my tongue. How is it possible that someone could taste so incredible? I don't know, but I will never take these moments for granted again. Sitting up straighter, I look up at her, her hooded gaze locked on me. I groan at the sight of her.

"What now?" I whisper, recalling my decision to let her take the lead.

Her brow furrows slightly in confusion, but it quickly disappears as she takes my hands that are rested against her jean-clad hips and slides them up her amazingly soft skin until I'm cupping her breasts through the lacy fabric covering them. She bites her lip as I squeeze and tease her nipples, her breaths coming rapidly as she emits little whimpers every so often. I love that I can still affect her like this. I reach behind her to undo the clasp on her bra, slowly revealing its hidden treasures. Her nipples harden in reaction to either the chilly air in the room or arousal. It doesn't matter which. I bend her until my lips capture one of her nipples while my fingers lazily tease the other. Her fingers are in my hair, pulling me closer. We continue on like this for a few minutes before her wobbly legs give out and she falls to her knees in front of me. My eyes widen as she places a hand on my chest, pushing me backwards onto the bed, before deftly undoing my belt followed quickly by my pants. Her eyes are locked on mine as she pulls down my jeans, her hand grazing my erection, which is incredibly relieved to be freed from its confines. I gasp, biting my lip, and bunch up the blanket in my hands, holding on for dear life.

Once my jeans are out of the way, Ana's touch pulls away from me and my eyes snap open to see where she's gone. She's standing again, her eyes locked with mine as she removes her own jeans, leaving both of us in just our underwear.

"God, you're beautiful," I breathe, pushing myself up on my elbows to better look at her.

She grins. "You're not so bad yourself," she whispers, approaching me again.

I fall back onto the bed as she climbs over me, pressing our bodies together. Somehow I manage to move us farther up the bed so that I'm resting against the pillows, which will undoubtedly be much more comfortable for her. Her legs straddle my hips as she leans forward to kiss me. Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her lower back, letting my fingers explore the outline of her panties, trailing doing her backside, and hear myself groaning into her mouth at the feel of dampness between her legs. Always so wet for me...

"Only you," she whispers as I stroke her. I didn't realize I'd spoken aloud, but her words only fuel the determination of my fingers. She moves against me, encouraging me and I know I can easily bring her to the very edge, but apparently that goes against her plans. She pulls away from me, sitting on my legs, breathing heavily. My heavy arms have fallen to my side and my body is cold without her touch. Somehow she shuffles around enough to remove her panties without leaving me for more than a second.

"Oh, fuck," I groan at the sight of her. I'm practically salivating at what I'm seeing: she's had a Brazilian wax at some point very recently. I want to ask when she did that, but I'm not about to ruin this moment with pointless questions. All I know is that she's does this _for me_ and that she clearly had intentions for _this_ to happen during the weekend. "Come here." My tone is begging. I know she knows my intentions and I smile at the eagerness with which she shuffles up my body until her knees are on either side of my head. I reach up, grasping her hips and pulling her down to meet my mouth.

She cries out as my tongue teases, circles, thrusts. Fuck, she tastes incredible... I move up to suck on her clit and she tenses. Though I can't quite see, I know she's thrown her head back, moaning as I move her against me. I groan against her and she shudders at the vibration. I know she's close. Increasing my speed and the pressure of my tongue inside her, I push her way over the edge, loving the way she screams my name. I'd forgotten how amazing that sound is. Sliding her away from me, I sit up, cupping her cheeks and kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on me. She's panting again and I'm almost desperate to make her come again, to hear her cry out in ecstasy. As gently as I can manage, I roll us over so that she's on her back below me and I move between her legs, shoving down my boxer shorts and kicking them off the bed.

Resting on my elbows on either side of her head, I look deeply into her eyes. "This is what you want, Anastasia?" I ask in a whisper. I have to give her a chance.

Nodding breathlessly, she moans. "God, Christian, yes," she chokes out.

I nod back, determined to make this last, despite how low it's been since we've done this. Taking a deep breath, I position myself at her entrance, looking into her eyes again. I sink into her slowly, pressing our hips together. She gasps at the feeling, her eyes closing as I bury myself deep inside her. We're as close to one another as we can possibly be and I kiss her gently, urging her to open her eyes and look at me.

"I have to see you," I whisper. She opens her eyes immediately and wraps her arms around my back, her legs around my waist. This is where I belong. This is my home. For the longest time, neither of us moves; it's as though our bodies are reacquainting themselves with the other. When that connection isn't enough, I pull out almost completely, sliding back in achingly slowly. Our rhythm set, we lose ourselves.

I'd somehow forgotten how she feels wrapped around me. So warm, so wet, so tight... I feel her heels digging in, urging me to move faster. I'd planned on drawing this out for as long as possible, but it's been far too long. Besides, I've promised to give her everything she wants. Pushing up on my elbows, I thrust faster, harder, grinding my hips into hers, dropping my head to tease her nipples with my teeth. My body tightens and I know I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer. I'm pounding into her now, her moaning and groaning and pleading for me not to stop is almost too much.

"Come for me, Ana," I beg. "Please god, come for me."

She tightens her grip on me in every way as her orgasm hits. I sigh in relief and it only takes a couple more thrusts before I'm screaming my own release, holding her against me, whispering her name against her skin.

I don't know how long we lay like this, wrapped around each other as though we're trying to become one person. At some point, I find enough strength to pull away and look at her. Her eyes are open, sparkling with satisfaction and love and a hundred other emotions my fuzzy brain can't quite identify right now. She's smiling widely at me and I feel my own idiot-grin grow on my face. I laugh briefly, inexplicably, before I kiss her softly. The last thing I want is to leave her, but I know I have to; as I pull away, we both wince at the loss of contact and I flop to lie beside her, pulling her into my arms immediately.

What I'm feeling right now is nearly overwhelming. Relief. Happiness. Almost weightless. Loved. I feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes and I know it's because I've finally gotten back the part of me I so carelessly threw away. I need to say something, but there's only one thing I can think of to convey everything:

"I love you," I whisper against her hair. "So much."

She sighs happily. "I love you, too." She brings her left hand to rest against my chest and I realize this is the first time she's gotten a good look at the engagement ring I gave her. I went for simplicity rather than extravagance. A white gold band with diamonds set within it, wrapping her finger. Okay, it's simple for me.

"Do you like it?" I ask quietly, lifting her hand to look at it for myself.

She looks up at me, smiling. "Yes..."

My brow furrows when she trails off. "But..." I say leadingly.

She sighs. "I did like my original engagement ring."

"I know," I tell her. "But that ring is from our old life together. This one symbolizes a new beginning for us."

She nods as though she understands, resting her head on my chest again.

My mind flows through the memories of the evening and aside from the obvious, there's only one other thing on my mind. "I cannot believe you laughed at me," I tell her, unable to fill the words with as much sullenness as I'd intended.

Her expression is sheepish. "I really am sorry," she says, trying and failing to keep lingering amusement out of her tone. "You just... surprised me is all. In a good way."

"Obviously," I say, grinning. She rolls her eyes and I raise an eyebrow at her. Her eyes immediately widen right before I flip her onto her back, straddling her body. "Anastasia," I breathe, nuzzling her ear with my nose. "How many times do I have to tell you not to roll your eyes?"

Arching into me, she says huskily, "At least once more..."

I grin at the thought that she's challenging me. "Baby, once more won't be nearly enough."

She giggles and that's more than enough to get us going again. I will spend my entire night, weekend, lifetime worshipping this woman. And I will never get enough of her again.


	31. Chapter 31

I don't remember the last time I slept so well. All night with my arms around my wife, her resting on my chest after hours of lovemaking. It was more than perfect.

Until I woke up. And realized I was alone in bed. And the side where Anastasia should have been was cold.

 _Fuck!_

Had I dreamed the whole thing? My eyes snap open and I sit straight up in bed, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. I'm on _The Grace_. Okay, that much was true. But there was no sign of Ana. Panic grips heart; had she run while I was asleep? We are still docked, and it would have been easy to slip away in the middle of the night. I jump out of bed, my breathing shallow as I grab my jeans and yank them on as I rush up the stairs to the deck. But I pause, sliding across the floor on my bare feet as I catch movement in the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe in utter relief, I take several minutes to just watch my wife who is wearing one of my shirts and what looks to be my boxer shorts as she hums and cooks breakfast. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and her hips are swaying to whatever tune she's humming to herself. It's not long before I can't just stand here anymore and cross towards her in a few long strides, wrapping my arms around her waist. She jumps in surprise, but I ignore the reaction; she's here, in my arms, and last night was not a dream. I don't think I've ever been so grateful for something like that.

"Christian?" she asks quietly, turning in my arms and wrapping her arms around my waist. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, fully aware that I'm shaking as I bury my head in her neck. To my relief, she doesn't press me immediately; she just holds me, which is exactly what I was looking for. When I'm confident that I'll be able to speak more than a few words, I pull away just enough to look into her eyes, then close the distance between our lips, kissing her softly, gratefully. Her fingers slide up my chest and into my hair as she holds me against her. I groan as I pull away, resting my forehead against hers. "Good morning, Anastasia," I say huskily, trying to smile at her.

"Good morning, Christian," she says breathily, her eyes still closed. "What was that for?"

"Do I need an excuse?" I ask teasingly, softly running my hands from her hips to the bottoms of her breasts. "I thought I was allowed to kiss you after last night."

"You are," she responds, her voice a little more high-pitched than normal. "I'm just a little surprised."

I smirk, unable to hold the expression for long. "When I woke up," I say in a low tone, "you weren't there... And I thought..."

Her brow furrows the little _V_ between her eyebrows appearing. "You thought..." She trails off as though she's waiting for me to explain further, but I don't think I can voice my fears. Realization dawns on her face along with sympathy and slight annoyance. "You thought I was running."

I nod, unable to meet her gaze.

"Christian." Her voice is exasperated. "What is it going to take to convince you I'm not going anywhere?"

"Old insecurities," I murmur against her skin. "I'm sorry I doubted you, baby."

With a sigh, she rests her forehead against my heart. "It's okay," she whispers. A moment later, she tenses. "Is that why we stayed docked last night?" She pulls away, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes at me. "Because you thought I was going to run?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to give you an option to leave if that's what you wanted," I tell her slowly. "I didn't think it would have been fair for us to be in the middle of nowhere only for me to ask you what I did and for you to say no, then have us stuck in close quarters until we got back here. Ana, I'm sorry I doubted you; I suppose I'll never get over the fear of losing you again. I need to learn to trust myself and you... I'm sorry."

She smiles gently. "It's okay," she says. "I'm sorry I freaked you out by getting out of bed. I just thought we might like some breakfast before we set sail."

"Absolutely." I finally manage a genuine smile and the residual anxiety from my less than pleasant wakeup is quickly fading away, replaced by desire. Looking in her eyes, I'd say she feels the same, but we're both rudely reminded that breakfast is cooking. Besides, Taylor and Mac will be joining us shortly—Taylor for a rundown of anything that needs running down; Mac for last minute boat preparations. So grudgingly, I release her and minutes later, we're back on deck having a lovely little breakfast of cheese omelets and fruit. Just as we're finishing up, Taylor and Mac arrive, and Ana excuses herself to shower. I'm disappointed to see her go for many reasons: I hate when she's away from me; I really don't feel like dealing with anybody else today; and she's about to get naked and wet for the first time since I've been allowed to touch her. I make a mental note to myself to insist on showering together as often as possible this weekend.

Taylor hasn't got any news aside from the announcement that Andrea contacted him to let me know that flight and lodging arrangements for London have been made. I nod stiffly and move on from the subject; the last thing I want to be thinking about this weekend is London and the reason for our return in a few weeks' time. Once he takes his leave, Mac and I get to work on preparing the boat for our trip. It takes us less than an hour before Ana and I are waving Mac off the boat, and headed back towards the wheel for departure. As I steer us out of the harbor, I glance over at Ana who's dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that hugs her body nicely. I'm not entirely certain how she expects me to concentrate on driving a boat with her wearing that, but I manage it. When I'm not focusing on her curves, I see she's got a big grin on her face and seems to be bouncing in place, something she undoubtedly picked up from Teddy when he's excited about something. I find I'm just as excited.

Out on open water, I gesture for Ana to join me at the wheel. She stands between it and me, and I have the opportunity to hold her as she steers us with my directions. There really isn't any other place I'd rather be right now. My wife and I are truly together again, we're out to sea, and we don't have to face the real world until tomorrow night at the very earliest. My arms are around her waist, my chin on her shoulder as she keeps us steady and I swear I could fall asleep standing up, I'm that comfortable.

"So are we going anywhere in particular, Mr. Grey?" she asks, turning her head towards mine.

I reluctantly straighten up. "I had a destination in mind," I reply evasively, grinning to myself. "We're only about an hour or so away from there now. I thought we'd have lunch."

She nods and smiles. "Sounds like good plan," she agrees.

I'm slightly surprised she isn't asking for more details, but I'm certainly not going to complain. The surprise I have in store for her popped into my mind last week and I honestly can't believe I haven't done this before. Compared to most of my other surprises, this one is relatively low-key, but I think it's something she will enjoy immensely. And I'll enjoy it for the simple fact that she'll be with me. So it works out for everyone.

I take over the steering as we get closer to the shoreline and I grin to myself as Ana makes her way to the bow of the boat, trying to get a closer look. Right now, we're looking at a tiny speck that up close isn't really much bigger. My excitement is building as I start to make out the trees that dot the tiny little island, though I'm not sure it's really big enough to qualify for island status. It's only about two miles from one end to the other, completely uninhabited, and is so easily dismissed by most people. Ana is looking at me curiously as I stop the boat as far from the shore as I dare before lowering the anchor.

"We'll take the dinghy to the shore," I tell Ana as I join her at the railing.

"That's where we're going?" she asks uncertainly.

I nod, smiling. "You game?" I challenge.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Of course," she accepts.

"Good. Come. I'll grab our lunch if you want to grab the bag I packed in the bedroom."

"You packed a bag?" she asks as I lead the way below deck.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because."

I hear her huff in exasperation. "Christian, that's not an answer."

Stopping abruptly, I turn and grab her upper arms at avoid her running into me. "Why do you need an answer?" I ask her quietly, unable to refrain from bending down to nuzzle her neck a little. She shivers in response. "Can't you just trust me on this?"

She makes a sound that resembles a squeak, and I take that as an agreement that she'll stop questioning my plans. I place a small kiss on her forehead and we go about our respective duties. Within twenty minutes, I'm in knee-high water, pulling the dinghy ashore, my pants rolled up, though I have no delusions that they will stay dry, especially with the plans I have... I help Ana out and we walk up onto the beach where I anxiously take in her impression of our surroundings.

"Where are we?" she asks in a whisper.

"Well, if you look that way," I turn her towards the direction I'm indicating, "and swim several miles, you'll reach the Washington State coastline."

She turns to me, a small, incredulous smile on her face. "And how did you find it?"

My grin widens. "During Elliot's senior year in high school, our dad decided he wanted us to take a guys' weekend on the boat. I wasn't really all that interested in going," _because I would have rather spent the weekend letting Elena beat the shit out of me_ , my mind adds. My good mood falters briefly, but with a look of encouragement from Ana, I continue. "But I didn't have much choice in the matter. Carrick found this place. We spent hours here exploring, fishing... lying on the beach and watching the orcas in the distance. When it came down to it, it was a really great weekend. Years later when I started boating on my own I decided to try and find it and it took ages, but here we are."

She smiles, closing the distance between us and running her hands up my chest again. I really like that feeling... "So this is our own private island, Mr. Grey?" she asks huskily, standing on tiptoe to press her lips against mine. I groan, pulling the rest of her into me and deepen the kiss. I'm very tempted to take her right here, right now, but I know it's not the right time for that.

Instead, I pull back, narrowing my eyes at her. "Would you like your own private island, Anastasia?" I ask quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Her eyebrows shoot up in shock at my question. Hell, my own shoot up, but if she wants it, she can have it... "Um, no," she answers as thought she can't decide whether I'm kidding or not. "A private island isn't exactly on my list of worldly desires, but I admit that this is very nice."

Feeling incredibly proud of myself for making the right choice of activities for the day, I lean in to kiss her again. But just as my lips brush hers, I feel her shoulders beginning to shake and her lips twitching uncontrollably. I pull back immediately, wondering what it is I keep doing to make her laugh at me. "Something amusing?" I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. Her eyes are darting between me and something past me, and she jerks her chin, gesturing for me to look over my shoulder. I do so warily and immediately locate the source of her amusement. "Is that a fucking goat?" The question is rhetorical, because _of course_ it's a fucking goat. What I don't understand is how it came to be here...

Our eyes widen and our amusement grows when a male goat exits the trees to join the female that's grazing the few blades of grass that line the beach. Ana is leaning against me in silent hysterical laughter as the male mounts the female. "No," she chokes out, "but _that_ is a fucking goat." I join in on her laughter and we lower ourselves to the sand, turning away to give the two goats some modicum of privacy. I wrap her in my arms, pulling her into my lap, and we sit silently for some time, staring out at the ocean surrounding us. Nuzzling her neck, I let my hands wander a little, sliding up her shirt. As her breathing hitches, I let my lips move across her neck while the hand inside her shirt reaches her breast, teasing her through her bra. "The goats giving you ideas?" she asks breathily.

I stop my actions immediately, feeling her body shaking again as she turns to look at me, and I fight to keep my expression serious despite my next words: "No sexual acts involving animals," I say evenly. "It's a very hard limit for me, Anastasia."

Of course, this just sends her into further fits of laughter and we hear a noise behind us that seems to be the two goats retreating into the trees. "I think we interrupted them," Ana says shakily.

"Fucking goats," I say, grinning at her.

* * *

Reclining on a beach towel in a bikini beside Christian, I'm more relaxed than I've been in... I don't even know how long. I know a lot of my relaxation is a result of last night and us finally getting rid of all that sexual tension, as well as several other tensions, between us. Everything had been perfect, from dinner to dancing to a proposal I wouldn't have expected in a million years to everything that happened afterwards. I'd been nervous leading him to bed last night, more nervous than the first time we had sex. Then it had been nerves towards the unknown; last night it had been whether I would be able to go through with it after everything that's happened. The number of times I've thought about us together in bed again is countless, but almost every time I've thought about it, I've also thought about that fucking video. My biggest concern is that once we started getting hot and heavy, I'd have flashes of images that had no business being in my head and I wouldn't be able to go through with it. I don't know what that would have done to us and I never want to find out. It would be beyond devastating not only for him, but for me as well; I know something like that would end up ruining us for good. Why could Christian want to remain married to me if I couldn't satisfy his needs? Hell, he'd already shown me one of the possible end results and that's what has brought us to where we are today.

So to say I'm relieved that I didn't freak out the moment he touched me is the very epitome of understatement.

And it was good. So good. He was sweet and attentive and it was more than obvious how much he wanted me to enjoy us being together as he did. I'm not naïve enough to think the fact that neither of us has been with anybody for so long didn't play a part in our desperation—at least I hadn't; Christian says he hasn't, and I choose to believe him. The four times after that first coupling just went to show everything we've wanted and needed from each other. And I can't wait until we get back to the boat so we can go a few more rounds.

I turn my head to the right, finding Christian reclined on his own beach towel beside mine, his arms folded behind his head and his eyes closed. Then again... Deserted island, save a couple goats, hours alone with no other plans... This could definitely have its advantages.

"Are you smirking at me, Mrs. Grey?"

Suddenly, I'm jolted out of a very lovely daydream involving running my tongue across his bare, tan, very well-toned chest and see he's raised an eyebrow and cracked open one eye. "What if I am?" I ask defiantly.

Both his eyes open, sparkling at me. "Then I'll just have to teach you a lesson," he murmurs sleepily.

I raise my own eyebrow challengingly. "And just how do you think you'll be doing that, Grey?"

After all this time of knowing Christian Grey, I still never truly realize just how fast his reflexes are; before I can really work out what's happening, he's standing with me struggling in his arms and we're walking towards the water. The very cold water. "Christian, don't you dare," I warn him.

He only grins in response to my protests and threats. Water is lapping his shins and I'm still fighting to get him to put me down. There is only one way for this to end and I'm already plotting my revenge as he takes us waist deep into the water and sinks down, still holding onto me tightly, so that we're both submerged for no longer than a few seconds. But the damage is done: I'm wet and freezing cold. Despite that, the look of happiness, smugness, and playfulness on Christian's face doesn't let me remain annoyed at him for long. I don't remember the last time we played around like this—we're splashing each other, I'm trying to tackle him into the water. He grabs me around the waist and throws me into deeper water; I surface and glare, sputtering water as he laughs loudly. We carry on like this a little longer before I finally call an end to playtime by telling him I'm hungry; he immediately leads me out of the water towards our towels where he very thoughtfully packed extras. Sweetly and tenderly, Christian ignores his own dripping wet body that's probably as cold as mine, wrapping me in one towel while he dries my hair with another. He finishes his task by pressing his lips against mine briefly. Before I can even consider deepening the kiss, he pulls away to dry himself, then opens a cooler he'd placed off in the shade of the trees earlier.

Lunch is wonderful. At first I'm impressed with Christian's apparent cooking prowess—I'd expected peanut butter and jelly, but got grilled chicken salad—until I realized what had happened. He grinned sheepishly when I asked him whether Gail had prepared and Taylor had delivered. "I selected the wine, though," he proclaims defensively.

I laugh and congratulate him on his defeat.

"How's your weekend going so far, Mrs. Grey?" he asks when we're reclined on his towel after we've eaten.

I sigh contentedly, snuggling further into him. "Perfectly," I tell him honestly, feeling a little surprised for some reason. Did I actually think Christian would ever not plan out every moment of this weekend to perfection? No. But at the same time, we're both dealing with some pretty big issues, mostly involving the other. We're in the midst of getting to know each other again, learning to trust each other again, learning to love each other again, and I suppose I thought it would be more difficult than it has been. I'm not a fool. I know going home will renew the demons we left behind, especially when we head off to London for Lucy's trial. None of that has followed us here and I don't want that to change.

Christian rolls so that I'm on my back and he's leaning over me. "What are you thinking?" he murmurs, concern lacing his tone.

Hesitating, I swallow, not wanting to ruin our moment. "Just that I've been so happy lately and I don't want to see it end," I tell him, knowing I can't lie.

His brow furrows deeply. "Then you won't see it end," he tells me simply. "Ana, I will make every day of the rest of your life more perfect than the last. I know you're still skeptical and you will remain so for however long it takes for you to trust me again. And I know I've said it before, but I will repeat it until my last breath if I have to: I love you, Anastasia. I don't deserve you and I don't know what the fuck you're doing with a piece of shit like me, but I will never let you go again. I will never put us in a position that makes you want to leave. I've developed a whole new level of appreciation for you and I will show you every day how much it means to me that you've given me another chance and how much I love you." He smiles hesitantly. "Baby, I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. Last night was..." He trails off, his smile growing as he shakes his head as though he can't quite decide if he's been dreaming or not. "Last night was more perfect than I could have ever wanted. And I'm not just referring to the sex—though that in itself was mindblowingly amazing. I don't know when we lost the spark between us, but I feel like it's coming back and I will do everything within my power to make sure it stays."

I bite my lip very briefly. "It is coming back," I tell him cautiously. "I'm trying to get it back, too, and we're getting there, but there are still things I'm trying to come to terms with and it will take time and patience, on both our parts."

He nods gravely. "I understand," he tells me quietly. And I really think he does understand. "I just hope you won't give up on me when I'm being difficult."

Somehow I bite back my laughter. "Christian," I say patiently, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leans into my touch. "If I was going to give up on you when you were being difficult, I never would have given you my virginity."

His eyes widen in surprise at my words before they narrow in an attempt of a glare. "Is that so?" he asks evenly, pushing himself up so he's straddling my thighs. "And do you really think for one second that I would have taken no for an answer when it came to you?"

"Considering all your stalker tendencies, I'd have to say I probably would have needed a restraining order."

He huffs a laugh. "Baby, no fucking piece of paper would have stopped me," he says arrogantly. I roll my eyes. He raises an eyebrow. I freeze. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Both his tone and gaze have darkened, and I know whatever comes next will not involve him dragging me into cold water.

"No?" I attempt hopefully, though if I'm honest, I can't say I wouldn't welcome his reaction to my eye-rolling.

"I think you're lying, Mrs. Grey," he whispers before crushing his lips against mine. I groan into his mouth and he takes the opportunity for his tongue to invade my mouth, battling my tongue while I grasp his bare back for dear life. He nestles against me and my legs move to wrap around his thighs, holding him closer. He moans throatily and I feel him hardening. For the very briefest of moments, I realize of all the things Christian and I have done, all the places we've made love, it's never happened on a beach. Sex on the beach; I think I like the sound of that...

But apparently Christian doesn't agree. He tears himself away from me, panting heavily. "Not here, baby," he whispers.

I counter by pressing my hips into his, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. "Yes here," I respond, fisting my hands in his hair and pulling him back down to me again.

* * *

After the longest shower we've ever had together to get sand out of places where sand has no business being, Ana and I have a light dinner and curl up on a lounger on deck to watch the sun set and the stars appear. I still can't get over the memory of her practically forcing herself on me while we lay in the sand, in broad daylight. Normally I'd be paranoid about someone seeing us, but other than the two goats—for whom Ana insisted we leave a few of our leftovers from lunch—neither of us had seen any other living beings in hours. It had been another first for us—sex on the beach, if it could really be called a beach—and one that I wouldn't mind exploring again. Soon.

The image of Ana forcing me onto my back, then straddling me as she removed her bikini followed quickly by my beach shorts is one I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. Along with the feeling of how eagerly she slid me into her and began to move. I can't help feeling she used me a little for her own satisfaction. And if felt fucking amazing. _She_ is fucking amazing. I can't wait until I get the chance to speak new vows to her, making her my wife again. Making me her husband again.

"What are you thinking?"

Her question is whispered against my skin. I shiver slightly, pulling her closer to me. "How lucky I am," I murmur back, reaching for her left hand so I can kiss the finger where my ring is sitting. I wonder if she's noticed I'm wearing my wedding band. I haven't taken it off since the day she put it onto my finger, and all at once, I feel like a world-class bastard again. It takes a real piece of shit to wear his wedding ring throughout a five-month affair like he wasn't destroying everything he once considered sacred.

 _Never again._

"Have you thought about what you might want to do for a ceremony?" I ask, refusing to bring down the mood.

She turns in my arms with raised eyebrows. "Christian, it's been twenty-four hours," she says in a patient voice I've heard her use with our son. "And in those twenty-four hours, many of them have been spent with me unable to think of anything or anybody else but you." I smirk proudly at her words. "Though since you've brought it up, I do like the idea of keeping it simple. You, me... Some witnesses... Who do you think we should pick?"

I sigh. My thought automatically shifts to family—Elliot, Kate, Mia, my parents, Ana's parents—but I'm pretty sure the moment Ana mentions this remarriage to any of them, they'll do whatever it takes to talk her out of it, or at least refuse to be part of it. Our family is almost as protective of my wife as I am, and I know right now they're all rallying behind her after what I did to her. As they should... "We can think about it," I murmur, realizing I haven't given her an answer. "When do you want to do this?"

She sighs this time, which means she's at least thought about it since last night, despite what she says. "I suppose you'll want to do it as soon as possible?" she questions.

"Well, of course," I say as thought it should be obvious. Which it should be: the only thing that kept us from eloping to Vegas the first time round had been my mother's wish to plan the first wedding of her children—and god knows she never thought it would be mine she would have been planning. "Why, what did you have in mind?"

She turns so that she's facing me completely, looking hesitant and slightly afraid. "What would you think about waiting until the trial is over?" she asks in a small voice. I feel myself tense and go cold. "Before you go into full panic attack, I'm not suggesting this because I think there's something that might change my mind. I just don't want this hanging over us when we do this. If we wait until it's over, then we can truly start anew and we'll never have to look back."

Logically, I know it's a very good suggestion. She's right: once Lucy and Elena were out of our lives, we'll be able to remarry and, like Ana says, begin anew and never look back. Still, there's part of me that says she's looking for a loophole, that while we're in London, in a courtroom with my ex-mistress, and she hears something that changes her mind, she can still run without having made any sort of renewed commitment to me. "Okay," I hear myself agreeing. "After the trial." The old part of me that I've managed to bury under six feet of concrete and inside a combination safe held shut with heavy steel chains and padlocks curses me for not demanding that things go my way. It's becoming easier and easier to ignore that part of me; that part of me contributed to me having an affair and losing my wife. If we're to have a successful new chance at this, I really have to set aside my fears and insecurities, and trust what she says. She's not looking for an out to run as far from me as possible. She wants to remarry me. Hell, she's wearing my ring...

I won't lose her this time.

She seems skeptical of my response, but eventually relaxes against me and we're once again lost in our thoughts. Mine are surprisingly pleasant, despite my previous ones. I'm looking forward to another full day with my wife, trying not to think about our impending return to reality and our normal lives. It'll be easier than it's been, though, now that we've leapt another hurdle in rebuilding our relationship, and I'm starting to feel like I can get back my life the way it's meant to be.


	32. Chapter 32

Returning home was more difficult than I anticipated. After spending a weekend away from everything but Christian out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to distract either of us, I find the sights of Seattle almost stifling. Taylor was waiting for us when stepped off the boat and I immediately felt Christian's entire mood shift. Despite how tightly he held my hand as we walked to the SUV and continues to hold it as we drive to Kate and Elliot's, I can't help but feel he's shutting me out, just a little bit. I felt the same after our honeymoon: after weeks of us in our own private bubble, we were yanked suddenly and thoroughly back into a harsh reality. Then it had involved very real threats, fires at GEH, and car chases; now it involves having to face the mess Christian caused when he began his affair with Lucy. That thought puts a bitter taste in my mouth for the first time in weeks. We wouldn't be in this situation if he had just kept it in his pants...

 _Stop it!_ My subconscious has managed to fight her way out of being tied and gagged for the weekend has apparently been building up her snarkiness just for this moment. _You told him you forgave him for the affair. You agreed to remarry him. You slept with him over and over again this weekend. You don't get to go back on all that just because you have to go home._

Much as I hate to admit it, the bitch is right. Yes, I'm melancholy about the end of our time away, but we can only go up from here, right?

Sighing heavily, my head drops to my shoulder and I feel rather than see Christian turning towards me. He knows me well enough to know what's going on in my head; it's the same way I know what's going on in his. He wants to try reassuring me that everything will be all right, even though he's uncertain himself. But he can't right now just as I can't even begin reassuring him.

And it sure as hell doesn't help matters that he has to face Kate for the first time since the disastrous dinner at Grace and Carrick's house. Whether she was working late as Elliot said when they'd dropped off Teddy or if she was just avoiding being in the same place as Christian, I know they won't be able to avoid one another forever. When we pull into the driveway, I immediately spot Kate's BMW parked beside Elliot's truck and my desire to ask Taylor to fetch my son so we don't have to face whatever drama Kate might start is nearly overwhelming. Of course I don't ask Taylor to do this and before I know it, Elliot is opening the front door of the house happily, pulling me into a hug while Christian glares at him, and my mood improves immediately at the sound of my son's excited squeal. I force Elliot to release me so I can intercept Teddy as he crashes into my arms with a huge hug. It's only now I realize I haven't spent much time this weekend letting my mind linger on thoughts of my son, the one constant in my life for four years now.

"Oh, I've missed you, baby boy," I whisper in his hair, kissing his face all over. "Did you have a good weekend?"

Immediately Teddy launches into his weekend activities which apparently include a camp out in the backyard that Elliot set up for the kids complete with tent, campfire, and "scary" bedtime stories. I raise an eyebrow at Elliot at this, silently promising death if my son suffers from nightmares from whatever stories he'd been told. Elliot just grins carelessly. Teddy finally notices his father, who's been oddly silent and still since Teddy entered the room and demands a hug. I've never stopped being incredibly proud of the father Christian has become. The love he has for his son is unshakable and only grows more as the days go on. I'm trying not to think too far ahead to what might happen after the trial is behind us and we go through with the remarrying, whatever that might consist of, but I can't help but wonder if there might be more children in our future. A sibling for Teddy. A daughter perhaps. I can already imagine a little girl with my brown hair wrapping her father around her little finger with nothing more than a smile. It's pretty easy to imagine when Ava runs into the room with Kate trailing behind her and demands hugs from her Uncle Christian. He doesn't hesitate to give her exactly what she wants, leaving Kate and me trying to stifle our amusement over what I believe are similar thoughts. For a man who was terrified of becoming a father at all, I think he was more frightened of being the father of a little girl. Boys he can identify with, mostly; girls, though... well, his track record with girls sort of speaks for itself even though I know he'd be brilliant at it, if not horribly overprotective.

When I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, I see Kate's smile freeze on her face before it slips away completely, leaving her scowling. Christian notices the expression and glances at me, his own expression hardening. At first, my instinct is to turn around and find out what they're staring at then I realize they're looking at my hand. My left hand, to be precise, where the engagement ring Christian gave me and I understand suddenly.

Fuck.

"What is _that_?" Kate asks coldly.

"A ring," Christian flings back.

"Okay," Elliot says cheerfully, clapping his hands together as he looks between his wife and brother. "Kids, let's go play outside, shall we?"

The temperature seems to drop several degrees as Elliot leaves with the kids, throwing a glance at Kate that seems to be full of some warning. Once we hear the backdoor close, Kate immediately lays in. "So, what? He's buying you off now?"

"What?" Christian and I both shout, mine from disbelief, his from anger.

"I thought you were going in eyes wide open, Ana!" Kate says harshly. "Now you're letting him buy you expensive presents to keep you on his arm! I thought you were better than that!"

My mouth drops open at her insinuation. Christian, however, is livid. "How fucking dare you talk about her like that," he growls, towering over Kate. Luckily she's not as immune to Christian's intimidating nature. "Like she would ever allow me to _buy her off_ ," he spits the words like something disgusting. "Believe whatever you want, Kate. I've tried to keep my silence, letting you rip me apart piece by fucking piece from the moment we met, but I'm done. I'm not letting anyone speak to my wife like that."

"Oh, that's okay for you to say," Kate snarls. "Fucking anything that sashays its tight ass past you. You're going to hurt her again, Grey, and next time, I hope she takes you for every last fucking thing you've got."

"ENOUGH!" I shout, having heard more than enough. I place myself between them as Christian takes a step towards Kate. "Both of you, just fucking stop! I am so sick of you two being at each other's throats every time you're in the same goddamn room together!" I turn towards Kate. "I don't have to explain a thing to you. I've tried and obviously my words don't mean shit to you. And I never wanted to choose between my husband and my best friend, but I'm certainly not going to stand around and let you hurt him. So fuck it, Kate. I'm done trying to convince you of anything. The day we had lunch, I told you that you can either stand by me and support me in my decision to be with Christian, or leave us alone. I thought you chose our friendship; apparently I was wrong."

Without a word of explanation, I walk to the backyard to retrieve Teddy, knowing Elliot wants to question me on what's going on, but it seems the expression on my face is keeping him silent. Teddy in my arms, I return to where I left Kate and Christian and find them still in the same spots, glaring in opposite directions. "Come on, Christian," I say quietly. "I'd like to go home now."

I see Kate shift out of the corner of my eyes, but don't bother looking at her as I lead the way outside.

"Ana?"

We're nearly home when Christian tries engaging me in conversation.

"Yes?" I respond, my voice thick with unshed tears.

"Are you okay?"

Shaking my head, I turn to look outside. Unless I am very much mistaken, I've just lost my best friend. At the time, it seemed like a logical decision—she'll never stop doubting my husband's motives when it comes to me and I'm certainly not going to let her keep doing it—but logic doesn't make it hurt any less. I can't say I didn't see this coming years ago. The two of them haven't ever kept their animosity a secret, but for a while, I thought they'd managed to find some common ground, namely me. Eight months I was away and when I finally come home to try to get my life back on track, Kate does nothing but question my every decision and accuse Christian of buying my love and devotion.

Well, fuck her. I've got enough on my plate right now without adding _Placate Katherine_ to it. I thought I made my feelings for Christian more than plain to her. I thought we reached an understanding.

Dinner is quiet. Christian is watching me with concern, but I can't meet his eyes for more than a flash of a second. When it's finally time for Teddy's bedtime, we go through the routine mechanically and I know my husband is just waiting for the chance to get me alone. I mutter something about going to shower, leaving him to stare at me with hurt and confusion. I hesitate before going into the bathroom I've been using since my return home, making my decision within seconds. Turning away, I walk down the hall towards the bedroom I've only visited once in all these weeks, my heart racing as I open the door.

The moon is out, shining in from the large bay window across from our bed and I've never seen anything more inviting and comforting. With a small smile, I make my way to the adjoining bathroom, the location of hundreds of beautiful memories made by Christian and myself. This is home. This is where I belong. Finishing up my shower, step out, wrapping a towel around myself as I reenter the bedroom. I stop suddenly when I find Christian sitting on the bed, facing away from me, head in his hands. I go to sit beside him. He looks up with a smile of his own.

"I heard the shower running," he explains quietly. "But you weren't where I expected you to be and it took me a couple minutes to realize where you'd gone... I'd hoped you'd find your way back here soon."

Smiling at his sweetness and sentimentality, I know what I want and after today, I'm damn well going to get it. I stand suddenly, startling Christian, and make sure his gaze is locked on mine. Slowly, I let the towel drop from my body. His eyes widen when he realizes what's going on and he reaches out to pull me to stand between his legs, just like Friday night. Lightly, his hands and fingers trace my curves while he kisses my belly, moving his mouth lower. My own hands grip his shoulders to keep me steady as his tongue darts out to tease me between my thighs. In response to my moan, I feel him chuckle against me and I hate the fact that he gets such amusement from torturing me like this.

Wait. Who am I kidding? I love it when he does this to me. I want him to do this to me for the rest of my life. As long as at some point he bestows some sort of relief upon me...

I manage to pull away from him without losing my balance. He looks up sharply, confused at my move. With the slightest of smirks, I reach out and push him back on his bed, then make quick work of his pants and boxers. Not quite full staff, but I can fix that... Knowing he's watching my every move, pushed himself up on his elbows to do so, I drop to my knees between his, leaning forward to take him in my mouth. The sound he makes sends a thrill to my very soul—so raw, so primitive, so Christian. Using everything at my disposal—lips, tongue, teeth, fingers—I bring him to the brink of ecstasy over and over, always stopping short of that one moment I know he's becoming desperate for. I feel his hands grasping for me, so I slide my hands up his thighs, his belly, his chest, gripping his arms as I take him deeper, feeling him in the back of my throat.

"Fuck, Ana," he gasps, bucking his hips. "Baby, I want to be inside you. Please."

All of a sudden, I'm overwhelmed with pride for myself. I can't remember the last time I made Christian Grey beg for sex—though he's done it a few times this weekend. I like this, knowing I have this power over him, and that he's not the only one who can turn somebody into putty in their hands. Of course, it would be horrible of me not to give into his pleas; after all, I want to encourage this sort of behavior. I pull away from him with a _pop_ and he groans as I stand, still holding on to his arms as I crawl over him. I'm not sure when it happened, but Christian lost his shirt at some point. I find this doesn't bother me in the slightest at the sight of his feral gaze and the feel of his hands sliding up my thighs to my hips as he helps guide me over him.

Christian cries out and my head falls back as I slide onto him, sheathing him completely inside me. Neither of us moves for a minute; we just stare at each other in mutual longing and desire, not wanting to break this connection. I think I could stay here forever on top of him, looking down at him, and never have another care in the world. Everything falls away when we're together—there's no outside drama or stress or anything. How we could have possibly let this slip away in the first place is beyond me, but I'll never let it happen again.

With that thought firmly planted in my mind, I lean forward, taking Christian's hands and lifting them above his head as I begin to move. I push myself off him, contracting my muscles against him until the very tip of him is at my entrance, then slide down again. Repeating my movements, I choose the rhythm with which we meet, grinding my hips into his. I know he's desperate to touch me, but I keep his hands pinned above his head without a clue as to why I need this control over him right now. He can easily overpower me, flip me, fuck me into oblivion, but apparently he understands what I don't and allows me to take him at my pace, no matter how badly he wants otherwise. Lowering my head, I kiss him deeply, finding more confidence in the way his tongue desperately seeks mine. When I think I can't take anymore, I push myself upright again, releasing his hands, which immediately fly to my hips. He gives me a pleading look and I nod breathlessly. He smirks very briefly before growling. The grasp he has on my hips increases as he pulls me off him effortlessly, then slams me back down onto him, his hips snapping up to meet mine. He moves my hips in circles, one hand moving up to tease my breast, kneading it, squeezing my nipple before moving onto the other.

My muscles are tightening and despite wanting to draw this out for as long as possible—our first union in _our_ bed since I've been home—I don't think I can last much longer. "Christian," I breathe.

"I know, baby," he growls. "Let it go. Give it to me."

With that, he thrusts up, pulling me down into him a few more times until my eyes squeeze shut and I explode, falling against him when all my strength leaves with my climax. His arms wrap around me, his knees pull up, and he continues moving wildly, grunting, growling until his own muscles tighten and his own release overtakes him. We lie together in a boneless heap, trying to steady our erratic breathing. At some point, I vaguely realize Christian has somehow moved us so we're resting on the pillows. He's still got his arms wrapped around me, but I can see in the moonlight that he's smiling at me.

"Well, that was a very pleasant surprise," he tells me, sounding very well satisfied.

I giggle, running my fingers through his thoroughly just fucked hair. "Pleasant isn't exactly what I was going for," I try to grumble. It's difficult to be properly annoyed at such a beautiful man during moments like these.

"No?" he says with a raised eyebrow. "Would you prefer marvelous? Or perhaps extraordinary. There's also breathtaking, stupendous, awe-inspiring, heart-stopping, magnificent, and wondrous." I'm blushing and he's beaming at my reaction as he leans in to push hair out of my eyes, and lift my chin so I'll meet his gaze. "All of which, incidentally, describe you."

And with that, I'm pressed against the mattress and he's kissing for all he's worth, then he's inside me again, moving slowly, taking his time to explore every inch of me.

* * *

Hours later, breathless and in each other's arms again, I'm slipping off to sleep and I know Ana's about to as well, but we still need to talk before we rest.

"Baby?" I whisper against her forehead.

"Hmm?"

I shift so I can look at her. "Are you okay? After what happened with Kate, I mean..."

I hear her sigh and I know the tension she managed to let go since she got out of the shower is slowly returning. "I'm fine," she says in a small voice. "Or I will be. I meant what I said to her, Christian. The last thing I need is yet another person trying to interfere with everything we have and everything we're trying to have. Yes, I want her in my life, but not if she's going to speak to you the way she does."

"You know it was never my intention to pit you against your best friend, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she responds. "And I understand why she's feeling so protective of me, but she's being a hell of a hypocrite saying the things she's said about me taking you back." I tense, knowing where she's going and wanting to stop her, though I know she needs to get this out. "She barely hesitated to take Elliot back and what he did was worse than this."

Sighing heavily, I close my eyes. The memory of hearing about my idiot brother's behavior has popped up in my mind a million times in the last year, much as I've tried to block it out. Not only did Elliot cheat on his wife, but there was a rumor going around that he actually got his girlfriend pregnant. In the end it turned out she'd been lying, but still; the damage had been done. We all thought Kate was going to take him for everything he had—just as she told Ana she should do to me—but for whatever reason, she and Elliot managed to work things out and they've never been happier. So Ana is right: Kate's being a hypocrite right now. That doesn't mean I want to compare our relationship to that of my brother's and his wife's.

"It doesn't matter what Elliot did," I tell her. "It doesn't matter that Kate forgave him. What does matter, and the only thing that should matter, is what happens between you and me. I knew people would try to influence your decision to take me back. Hell, I tried to influence your decision over and over again. But in the end, the decision was yours, Anastasia. Nobody else's. And I will never be able to explain how incredible it feels that your decision worked out in my favor." I sigh heavily. "Now having said that, Kate is your friend. She's missed you just like the rest of them. I'm not going to sugarcoat it by saying she wasn't angry and hurt that you left the way you did, but as we all know, all of that should have been directed to me, and since everyone learned what I did, it has been. She shouldn't take out her anger and whatever else on you, though—"

"So she should only take it out on _you_?" she challenges. "Christian, I'm going to let her tear you apart every time she sees you. You've got enough doubt without her adding in her two cents—and don't try to tell me you don't doubt yourself when it comes to us. I know you better than that. I appreciate you're trying to protect me from her, but I'm going to do the same for you. Nobody is going to get away with that. Not Kate. Not Elena. Not Lucy. Understood?"

I can only blink at the fierceness in her tone. I almost want to question her lumping Kate in with those other two, but don't want to anger her any further. So like any smart husband, I do what I should. "Of course," I agree immediately. She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously as though she knows what I'm doing and why, but she doesn't question me further on it. Eventually we lie down again and fall asleep together in our bed, in our bedroom, where we should have been all along. As much as I'm dreading having to leave her for work in the morning, I love waking up with her here: the morning light that will enter through the window, making her skin glow beautifully allowing me to very clearly see the sweet, tired smile she'll bestow upon me as she wakes up.

* * *

To my annoyance, Seattle's rain season thwarts my morning plans of seeing the sun playing off Ana's skin as she wakes up. It's gray and dreary and pouring rain. I suppose it fits my mood. The last thing I want to do after the most amazing weekend I've had in years is go deal with acquisitions and mergers. All I have to look forward to is coming home tonight and spending every free moment with my wife and son. Regardless of the poor weather, Ana slips into the shower with me before I leave and improves my mood immediately. Taylor is looking at me oddly and I realize I'm actually whistling as we reach the SUV. I grin widely, which only seems to increase is uneasiness with my behavior and chuckle to myself as I get into the passenger seat.

But as we pull out of the driveway, I feel my good mood slipping away. Traffic is heavy. I'm receiving call after call from Ros and Andrea and a number of others. My email inbox is ridiculous and I can already feel the beginnings of a migraine.

And it doesn't help matters when I step out of my elevator to my office I see my father sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other and holding his briefcase in his lap. To an outsider, his expression is easy and friendly; to me, he's stressed out, upset, and slightly pissed off. He's chatting with Olivia about something and making her giggle like some teenager. It's disgusting. This is my father for fuck's sake. She's seen him a million times. Usually accompanied by my mother... I clear my throat and Olivia's eyes widen as her complexion pales. She mutters some pathetic nonsense before scurrying off to get a coffee or something. My father stands and I suddenly want to go back home and lock myself in my bedroom with my wife.

"Dad," I say warily. "This is a surprise."

His lips press together in a thin line that tells me more than I need to know right now. "We need to talk."

Yeah, I figured that much... With a sigh, I nod and lead him into my office, closing the door as he enters. Running a hand through my hair, I gesture for him to take a seat on the couch and I sit beside him. "What's on your mind?" For one brief moment, I fear my mother told him about what we discussed during our lunch not too long ago. If that's the case, I think I'll be breaking into my liquor cabinet very shortly despite the very early hour; there's no way I can have that sort of conversation with him without the comfort of a bottle of whiskey.

When he speaks, though, he sets my mind at ease. Briefly. "I've received an update of what to expect at the trial in a few weeks," he says grimly. Fuck. The trial. And I'm now very firmly back on Earth after spending two heavenly days with my wife. "I thought you would want all the information you can get before you go out there."

"You're right," I say resignedly. "What do you know?"

Carrick reaches into his briefcase to retrieve a stack of emails and other paperwork. "Firstly, and you didn't hear this from me since I had to pull in several favors to get it, Lucy Hastings is planning on pleading insanity at the time of the kidnapping. I don't know the details of her plea, but from what I understand, she's got a team of doctors lined up to give testimony."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" I growl, fisting my hands in my hair to avoid punching something.

"I wish I was," says my dad, shaking his head, not at all phased by my anger. "It won't be difficult to counter, I don't think. The laws in England are similar to ours, though in some ways seem stricter with regard to punishment. Kidnapping isn't something they take lightly and since she admitted to her crime, she hasn't really got a leg to stand on. That's not to say she won't use this to her fullest advantage by playing the victim mistress who was promised the world by her lover only to be left in the dust. And Christian, I don't care if it's the truth or not!" He interrupts my argument. "If this is how you're reacting now, I can't imagine how it'll be when you're sitting in that courtroom listening to whatever bullshit she comes out with. You need to get your emotions under control, Christian. The last thing Anastasia needs is for you to be arrested for causing a scene in the middle of the trial."

I hate it when he's right, but goddamn it, he's right. "So we'll get our own experts in there to evaluate," I respond once I've calmed down. "I'm sure John Flynn would love the opportunity to fly home for a week or so."

Carrick cracks a small grin. "Not a bad idea," he concedes. "Now for the other bit of news..."

I brace myself.

"Again, this needs to remain quiet, since we're not supposed to be privy to this sort of information. I was able to get access to it because of the restraining order proceedings against Elena Lincoln, but I'm stretching my power of poking around without being detected. I wouldn't do this for anybody but one of my children." He hands me a folder and I open it reluctantly, feeling at once like it's Christmas and like I want to beat the shit out of somebody.

"I'll bury both of them," I growl, flipping through the paperwork.

"Well, you can let Hastings bury herself," Carrick tells me. "Elena is another story altogether. It never ceases to amaze me the influence she has to get things done. The paper trail only goes so far, I'm afraid, and once that ends, it's speculation, which won't actually get us anywhere. However, I'm still confident we'll get all the information we need to get this shit taken care of before it goes any further. What I need you to do, Christian, is to not do anything rash. If you try jumping the gun on this, you're going to destroy our efforts. You're a businessman, Christian, you know what can happen if you try to move in on a deal too soon. Treat this like a business dealing if you need to. We'll get this taken care of."

Treat it like a business deal. Easy for him to say. It's not his livelihood, marriage, and reputation on the line. Though honestly, only one of the three matter to me at this point and it's not the first or third. "Will this be enough to take care of Elena?" I ask, surprised at my calm tone.

"I don't know," my dad says honestly. "But she's been making questionable decisions for decades," he looks pointedly at me and I actually squirm under his gaze like a teenager getting a lecture from his father, "and her reputation around here is pretty much shot. This might be the last straw as far as her ever getting another business or business partner that wants to deal with her bullshit. And if we can somehow prove she only took an interest in that London publishing house after Anastasia began working there, so much the better for us."

"How do we prove that, though?" I hate that slight desperate edge my voice is taking, because I know Carrick will pick up on it in an instant. "My understanding is she paid cash for her investment and cash isn't something easily traced."

"Bank records, son." Carrick is grinning at me. Actually fucking grinning. I'm getting the feeling he's enjoying having something over on Elena Lincoln. "You told us you gave her three million dollars. Once that deposit was made into her bank account, we can trace every little thing she did. It's tenuous at best, but for our needs, it works."

I'm still skeptical. Proving intention of something like an investment isn't easy. Anybody can say they _intended_ to make that sort of move all along and for the most part, they can't be questioned too much about it. In Elena's case, knowing thy enemy is where we might find success; as my dad said, she's been making questionable business dealings for decades, and we have proof in front of us about at least one of them. So perhaps it won't matter that her decision to invest with Canton Publishing didn't actually pop up until Ana worked there.

By the time my father leaves to return to his own work, my mood is thoroughly shot and it's not even ten in the morning. I want to just go home, but I've been neglecting my work lately to spend more time with my wife and son, and I really need to get my head on straight again. As I settle into my work, I'm feeling oddly confident that this whole thing will actually work out to my benefit and the benefit of my family. I don't know how much light is at the end of the tunnel, but at this point it doesn't matter; I have Ana and Teddy. They are my life. They are my reason for being. And I will do everything within my power to ensure nothing ever hurts either of them again.

And that nothing includes me.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and commented. There are about six chapters to go, and I should have them up this week!


	33. Chapter 33

"Mr. Grey, your nine o'clock is here."

I pause in my typing and stare at my phone from which Olivia's disembodied voice has just spoken. Even though I knew this moment was coming all morning, even though I'm the one who set up this meeting, I'm dreading the next several minutes. Reminding myself I'm not doing this for myself, that I'm doing it for Anastasia, I brace myself. "Send her in." Seconds before my office door opens, I stand up, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles in my suit to give myself the semblance of having the upper hand. With a disgruntled expression on her face, Kate enters my office, her eyes roving over every inch of it as though she hasn't been here dozens of times over the last few years. Her gaze finds mine and as I expected, she immediately scowls at me. "Good morning, Katherine," I say, determined to be civil. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Kate raises an eyebrow at me. "I wasn't aware I had a choice," she says coolly. "The next time you want to speak to me, maybe you should just do it rather than sending your hired goons to kidnap me."

I raise an eyebrow in return. "First of all, they will resent being referred to as goons," I tell, copying her tone. "And second, nobody kidnapped you. You were more than free to decline my invitation."

"And yet, they wouldn't leave until I agreed to meet with you," she says, stopping short of my desk and crossing her arms. I discreetly roll my eyes. "What do you want, Grey? I've got a busy day."

"Then I won't keep you long," I say briskly, gesturing for her to take a seat at my couch. "Can I get you a drink?" The look on her face is enough to tell me to end with the pleasantries and just get to the point. "I asked you here to discuss Ana."

Despite her open animosity towards me, I see the minute slump in her shoulders at the mention of my wife—her supposed best friend. "What about her?" Kate asks quietly, looking down at her knee briefly.

"She's been upset since Sunday and it's because of what happened between the two of us," I tell her. "Considering how well she and I have been doing over the last couple weeks, and the rarity of seeing her upset in that time, we need to fix this. You can hate me all you want, Kate, but don't bring Anastasia into it. She deserves better than the two of us at each other's throats all the time and her having to break it up. It's unfair to her and I won't stand for it."

Disbelief fills Kate's expression. "You won't stand for your wife's unfair treatment? What about how unfair it was to her that you fucked some little slut for months on end? You sure as shit weren't jumping to her defense then."

I close my eyes in an attempt to keep my temper in check. There was no way she would have gone this entire meeting without bringing up my affair; doesn't mean it's easier to handle. "You're right, I wasn't," I agree. "And of the two of us, I'm the one who deserves the brunt of her ire, but that doesn't give you the right to insult her the way you did the other night."

"How the fuck did I insult her?" Kate asks, her voice rising.

"By suggesting the reason she's come home to me is because I've bribed her," I answer immediately. "By suggesting she's so weak that she needs reassurance from me in the form of material possessions. By going against her word in regards to how you treat me. I know she asked you to keep out of our marriage and to, at the very least, support her decision to come home to me. Kate, do you have any idea that toll it takes on Ana when you and I fight? You're supposed to be her friend, but every time she has to watch and listen to us argue, she's being torn from one side to the other and feels it necessary to choose between us. You can believe what you want about me, about my marriage, and what you clearly consider the inevitable return of my infidelity, but don't you fucking dare put Ana in a position like that again. For some unknown, wonderful reason, she's decided to give me a second chance—and it _is_ her decision. The details of our reconciliation are, honestly, none of your fucking business. If Ana decides to tell you, fine, but I don't owe you a goddamn thing, Kate. The only person in this world I owe is my wife.

"And while I know this is probably the very last thing you want to discuss, especially with me, I feel I need to remind you that neither Ana nor I got involved when it was you and Elliot going through a similar situation. Each of us was there to support the two of you, but I never gave Elliot advice on what to do in his marriage, just as I know Ana never would have tried giving you advice. I'm sorry you went through what you did with Elliot, I truly am, and I remember how messed up you were, which gave me a little insight into how Ana has been feeling. But I don't understand why it's okay for you to forgive Elliot, and wrong for Ana to forgive me."

"You want to know why?" she asks, her tone deceivingly calm. I expected her to speak long before now. "It's because from day one, you were making her cry. Not only that, but you brought her into your life under false pretenses. And I don't care that you supposedly changed your lifestyle in order to keep her. I've been waiting for years for you to break her heart, Grey, and now that you have, I don't want to sit back and watch it over and over again. As for you bringing my and Elliot's marriage into the mix... Like you said, it's none of your fucking business what happens between us, but Elliot and I worked through our troubles. Elliot never wanted to tie me up and beat the shit out of me. He never controlled every little aspect of my life to the point I wasn't _allowed_ to go out and have drinks with my friends without him flying across the country while he was on a business trip just to yell at me. He never made me feel so insignificant that I believed my only option was to leave the country with my child. When things between you and Ana are good, they're really good; when they're bad, they're a fucking nightmare. You're destroying her, Christian, and you don't even see it. How long will it be before you do this again? How long will it be before you _really_ hurt her?"

Now I'm pissed. I know exactly what she's insinuating and I want nothing more than to scream and rage at her, but I know that behavior will do nothing to get Kate on side. Not that I want her on my side at this point. "Firstly, I would _never_ physically harm Anastasia. I'm not a wife batterer, Kate, and I really don't appreciate you insinuating otherwise. Ana would never stand for that; she'd leave me without a second thought." I don't mention that Ana has demonstrated this exact behavior in the past. "I know what I've done has hurt her deeply and that it will take a long time before we reach a point where she trusts me completely again. As for me destroying her... I'm not entirely certain we're talking about the same woman. Ana has never been stronger than she is right now. The time she spent in London, she did it on her own without the help of any of us, you included. So don't try to presume you know her; she's changed drastically. She doesn't need your protection. Hell, she probably doesn't need mine, but I'll be damned if she doesn't get it regardless. And if I need to, I will protect her from you. At this point, I'm not the one bringing her to tears. I'm not the one suggesting she's too naïve to know what the right decision is to make. That's all you, Kate. And it needs to stop. She needs a friend right now to help get her through the trial in London; she doesn't need someone questioning her judgment every time she breathes. If you value her friendship at all—and you would be a fool not to—you'll make the right decision. And don't you dare think you can just pretend to be supportive of her; she'll see right through it. If you go back into this, it needs to be because it's what you want. Don't fuck this up, Kate. We've all been through way too much for that."

* * *

Nearly two weeks has gone by since I've seen or spoken to Kate. As much as I miss her, I'm glad she hasn't tried contacting me; I don't know that I'd have anything nice to say to her. It didn't take long before the rest of the family noticed there was a strain between Kate, and Christian and me. Over the weekend, Grace and Carrick invited everybody over for dinner during which Kate, Elliot, and Ava were conspicuous only in their absence. Neither Grace nor Carrick seemed to know why their oldest son and his family had declined their invitation, but I suspect they were aware Christian was somehow involved. I felt guilty that I was partially to blame for Kate wanting to distance herself from the family, but at the same time, it was probably for the best; at least until tempers cool down somewhat.

Still, I haven't been able to hide my sadness of seemingly losing a friendship that has meant so much to me. I know he won't bring it up to me for fear of upsetting me further and I'm not eager to bring it up to him. Besides, I've got other things to occupy my mind and time. I started working at Golden Gate Publishing on Monday. For whatever reason, I was more nervous about this job than any of my others, but so far, it's going wonderfully. The small amount of staff employed there has been very friendly and welcoming. I'm being kept busy despite the limited accounts they have. And by the end of my first day, I was more than comfortable.

Of course it doesn't hurt that Christian has been beyond supportive so far; when our respective work days end, he's quick to ask me how my day went and seems to actually enjoy listening to me tell him even the most insignificant details I've been sharing with him. It never stops amazing me just how much he's changed in the recent weeks and there are moments that I wonder where the real Christian Grey is hiding. I would never voice my question aloud, since I wouldn't want to do anything that might cause him to revert back to the old Christian. I love this new Christian. Well, not new, perhaps; he's the sweet, funny, loving, attentive Christian that I fell in love with at the beginning, the one I always wanted to stick around through everything. It never lasted, of course, so I suppose part of me is wondering how long it will last this time around. I hate being suspicious of this, of his motives, but I'm hoping that as the days wear on, that feeling will lessen until it's nothing more than a very distant memory. I don't know whether this Christian has been summoned by our renewed sex life or the prospect of our remarriage or something completely different, or a combination of all the above. And frankly, I don't care. Our relationship has never been better. We haven't had even the slightest disagreement, we're openly sharing things that bother us or that we think might upset the other to hear. I never want to lose the feeling of this moment, knowing we're closer and more united than ever before, and I can't help but wondering when something will change. Lucy's trial is coming up more quickly than I want and I'm fully aware I'm going to be hearing details of my husband's affair. He swears he's told me everything about his and Lucy's relationship, and I think I've managed to come to terms with those details to the point that I can handle hearing them in a public setting.

From what Christian has told me about Lucy's intentions, I have a feeling my husband and his reputation are about to be dragged through the mud, run over by a double-decker bus then flushed down the toilet. This will probably be the most difficult thing to handle, hearing her say whatever she might about the affair, whether it was accurate or not. She's claiming insanity; logic and truth don't come into her testimony.

I was concerned about taking the time off from my new job to fly to London for the job. It's becoming a habit that began with my flying to Seattle only days after starting at Canton Publishing for the Greys' end of summer party. But I'm determined to kick this habit once the trial is over. My employers were surprisingly accepting of my time off request, especially when I explained the reason for my visit to England to see my son's kidnapper punished. Of course our families want to go with us and support us. Christian is understandably resistant to the idea. I'm sure the last thing he wants to face at the end of every court day are the disgusted, accusing, disappointed, angry stares of my parents and his siblings—the only ones unaware of the grittiest of details of his affair. Grace and Carrick will be joining us, much to my surprise. Carrick to help the legal team prosecuting Lucy by providing what information he's come up to prove Lucy had premeditated kidnapping my son from his school; Grace because she's determined to see me and Christian through this. I know that means the absolute world to Christian, since he still wondered how it was possible his mother could love him after everything she's learned about it.

A pair of arms slips around my middle from behind as I stand over the bed, folding laundry and deciding what to pack for the trip. Immediately, my worries cease to exist as I lean back into the hard body behind me and feel lips nuzzling my neck softly. "Careful, my husband will be home any minute," I whisper, becoming increasingly unable to form words, let alone teasing ones as the hands trail up under my shirt. "And he's a very jealous man."

"I'll make sure he doesn't know I'm here, then," says a husky whisper in my ear.

I'm not sure what reaction I expected from Christian at my teasing—annoyance, perhaps—but he doesn't miss a beat as he removes my shirt and turns me around to kiss me. I immediately put my fingers into his soft hair, faintly thinking he'll need a haircut soon, and pull myself closer to him as his fingers move up my bare back. "Where's Teddy?" I gasp when his lips leave mine to kiss my neck.

"Occupied," he replies, his voice muffled by my skin.

Groaning in appreciation, I make quick work of removing his shirt and tie, then moving my hands to his belt as he backs me up against the bed. I know what's coming and while I don't want to stop him, I have to register a token protest. "Christian, our clothes will get messed up."

He stops kissing me, giving me an exasperated look before eyeing the clean laundry folded into neat piles with nothing less than disdain. His eyes narrow briefly as he considers our options. He then grins mischievously at me and I've only got a split second to prepare for him to slide his hands down to my behind and lifting me in his arms. We spin around and his grin widens as I let out a little shriek of laughter at the sudden movement. Another second later, I'm pressed between the bedroom wall and Christian. I do love this time of day. It's been like this almost every evening since we returned from our weekend on _The Grace_. Not necessarily with the wall—some days, it's in the kitchen; others in the library; on a couple very wonderful occasions, he's caught me in the shower. The outcome is always the same and I have no complaints.

Somehow Christian has managed to get the both of us completely naked without letting out of his arms and he's positioned himself just at my entrance. He slides me down to surround him and kisses me deeply to absorb our pleasurable moans. My legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over each other while my hands fist in his hair as he thrusts into me hard and fast. When he adjusts my angle against the wall to allow him to move even deeper inside me, I feel the familiar build up and know I'm not going to last much longer. And judging by the way Christian's face has contorted neither will he.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he whispers, his voice strained. "Being inside you, watching your beautiful face while I fuck you... Favorite place in the world."

As much as I'd like to vocalize my agreement, I can only find two words: "Christian. Please."

"Let go, baby, let me see you..."

With a couple more thrusts of his hips, I explode, throwing my head back and realizing vaguely that Christian anticipated this reaction, thoughtfully cradling the back of my skull to keep it from hitting the wall. Grasping on with what little strength I have in my body, I exaggerate the movements of my own hips to help him reach his own climax—not that he really needs the encouragement; I just figure I should contribute something to his efforts—and he lets out a strangled growling scream that seems to incorporate my name somewhere within it. Moments later, we're sinking to the floor, Christian holding me tightly against him as he kisses every inch of my body that he can reach.

"God, I love you," he breathes against my temple.

"Feeling's mutual," I whisper, resting my head against his shoulder.

He chuckles. "Glad to hear it."

I don't know how long we sit like this, but I'm content. The stress I've been feeling about going to the trial all but disappears, even though I know it's only a very temporary thing and the moment Christian's arms release me, it's all going to flood back. But for this moment in time, I can forget everything but the warmth of his skin and the feeling of being loved and protected from the world. I want to feel this way for the rest of my life.

"So what's all the laundry for?" Christian asks in a whisper against my hair.

Inwardly sighing, I lift my head up. "I'm packing our things for London," I respond.

He tenses. "You don't have to do that, Ana," he chides very gently. "Gail can do it."

I shake my head and the moment is gone. "I needed a distraction and this was the best I could come up with."

Reluctantly, because I know exactly what I'll see, I meet his gaze and as expected, he's looking back with a mixture of remorse and sadness. "You're nervous about the trial."

"A little." When his arms fall away from me, stand up, gathering our clothes. Christian is right behind me, retrieving a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I keep my back to him as I continue folding our clothes and packing them neatly into our suitcases. I know he's watching me closely, uncertain what to say to alleviate my worries, and honestly, I don't think there is anything he can say right now.

"Ana," he murmurs, sliding his arms around my waist again, though this time it's about comfort—mine as well as his. "We're going to be okay. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but we will be."

I don't have a response to that. I want to agree with him, to believe him, but every time I recall where we're going and why, dread fills my body. Somehow I manage a tight nod, to which Christian responds by dropping his arms from my waist. He knows me well enough to know not to push me into discussing things I won't want to dredge up, especially when the very things that are bothering me have the very real possibility of driving a wedge between us again. I'm determined not to let that happen, but I'm having trouble reassuring myself, much less Christian.

When I turn around, he's left the room, probably to search out Teddy. He'll be staying with Mia while we're in London. Grace had tried to gently hint that Kate and Elliot were probably better suited to babysit long term, especially since they had Ava, but both Christian and I managed to just as gently decline. I hate that it's like this between me and Kate. After everything we've been through. I'd be foolish to ever expect Kate and Christian to become best friends, but for a while, they were cordial to one another. Probably mostly for the sake of Elliot and me; it still counted. Kate has always been fiercely protective of me, I've always known that. She, much like Christian, believed me to be some naïve, too innocent, wide-eyed bookworm who had less than no knowledge of how the world operated. I tried to show them I wasn't that girl; they never believed it. Well, Christian has a better idea after the last few months, but Kate is still under the delusion that I need taking care of and protection from my husband. I want to make her understand, I want her friendship, and I want her support, but not if she's going to turn on me and Christian for the slightest things.

For the rest of the evening, Christian and I spend what time left we have with Teddy for at least a week. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning and will arrive in London two days before the trial is to begin. Christian says it's because he wants us to have time to relax before we have to face Lucy; I can't say the gesture is unappreciated, though I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hang around the hotel without going stir-crazy and getting stressed out. After Teddy is in bed, he insists on an early bedtime for us as well, which apparently includes a shower together. Once again, I'm sandwiched Christian and a wall. By the time we fall into bed, hours after his insisted bedtime, we're exhausted, mostly sated, and happy to be in each other's arms.

* * *

Very early the next morning, our suitcases are packed in the back of the SUV, Christian and I have eaten breakfast, and I'm stumbling outside half-asleep with my husband's arm around my shoulder to guide me while he chuckles at my expense. I'm about to tell him to stop laughing at me when I'm suddenly completely wide awake. Christian stops beside me, sighing in what sounds like resignation and he turns to face me, effectively blocking my gaze of the BMW that's just pulled into the driveway.

"It's up to you," he tells me quietly. "You don't have to talk to her; we can tell her we're in a hurry, and that will be the end of it."

"No," I whisper, staring at his shoulder as I hear the ignition shut off and a door open, then close. "I'll talk to her."

He gives me a terse smile and leans forward to kiss my forehead. "Want me to hang around?" he murmurs against my skin.

I shake my head. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, I'll be in the house when you're finished."

And with that he turns around as Kate slowly approaches us. Her eyes dart between us uncertainly, lingering briefly on Christian. I swear she just gave him a small, nervous smile; he returns a smile of his own, squeezes my arm in some sort of reassurance, and leaves us alone. "Hi," Kate says quietly.

"Hi," I say rather coldly, wrapping my arms around myself. "We're about to leave."

"I know. That's why I'm here." Kate sighs, glancing past me to where I know Christian has decided to linger near the front door. "I was hoping we could talk."

I sigh. "Kate, I've got enough on my mind right now. The last thing I need is another argument with you, and if—"

"Ana, I'm sorry," she says quickly, interrupting me. My eyes widen in surprise. "I really am. I was a complete bitch to both you and Christian, and I said things I know hurt you. Ana, the last thing I want after the last year is to lose you and our friendship. I'm sorry. Whatever it takes, I'll make this up to you."

And once again, the similarities between Kate and Christian shoot to the surface. "Kate, I'm sorry, but I can't be around people who are going to insult my husband at every chance and try to convince me I'm a fool for taking him back. This was my decision, nobody else's, and you of all people..."

Her shoulders slump and she closes some more of the distance between us. "I know," she says sadly. "I'm a total fucking hypocrite. I just don't like seeing you hurt."

"Seeing me hurt?" I repeat incredulously. "Kate, I've been nothing but happy over the last few weeks. Christian and I are rediscovering each other every day and he's never been more committed to fixing us. You can believe me or not, I really don't give a shit anymore. You had your chance to support us, to support _me_ , and you threw it in my face. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch so I can see that the bitch who kidnapped my son is given justice."

I start to turn to call for Christian, but Kate stops me. "I know about the remarriage." I stop in my tracks, turning back to her with a furrowed brow. "Christian told me. I just wanted to say congratulations and I really hope for the best for both of you."

"When did Christian tell you?" I ask suspiciously.

"Couple weeks ago." She shrugs. "He asked me to meet him at his office and we talked, and we sorted a few things out between us. I'm not saying I'm his biggest fan, but I really believe he loves you and that he's committed to you. Ana, I just want you to be happy, and despite everything, he makes you happy." She hesitates. "I know you're in a rush to catch a plane, but when you get home, can we talk more?"

I hesitate. Aside from the fact that she and Christian apparently met in secrecy, I know my friendship with Kate won't be mended by one rushed conversation. I have to decide whether I'm willing to put in the time and effort to continue a relationship with somebody who hurt both me and the man I love. _You forgave Christian, didn't you? And he hurt you worse than Kate could ever manage..._ "Sure," I hear myself whisper.

She smiles a real Katherine Kavanagh-Grey smile and the next thing I know, we're hugging. "I'll let the two of you get to the airport. Call me when you get a chance," Kate says, speaking quickly now. "And make sure that bitch gets what's coming to her. Worse comes to worse, I can fly out and hold her down while you beat the shit out of her."

I laugh out loud, waving as she gets into her car and leaves. Christian's arms wrap around my shoulders seconds after her car pulls out of the driveway. "You okay?" he whispers in my ear.

Leaning back in his embrace, I nod. "I'm good," I reply. "Though you get to tell me when you and Kate had this little heart-to-heart that has resulted at her actually _smiling_ at you."

He chuckles. "I'll explain on the plane."

With that, we're on our way. My heart clenches a little as we pull away. Like I told Kate, over the last several weeks, despite everything that's happened, I've never been happier. And I'm absolutely terrified that going to London will change that. All I can hope is that my marriage can withstand whatever happens during this trial and it won't end in my renewed misery.


	34. Chapter 34

Monday morning dawns and I feel sick to my stomach. When I open my eyes, I'm unsurprised to find Christian watching me as though he's been doing it all night, as though he hasn't slept at all. There is undisguised fear in his expression, one I can't help but mirror.

"Good morning," he rasps, reaching over to trace my jawline.

I shiver at the touch. "Good morning," I manage to respond. Part of me wants to roll out of bed and get this day over with while the other part objects to doing anything aside from pulling the blankets over our heads and losing myself in my husband. I settle for something in the middle and scoot across the bed, closing the gap between us and placing my hand on his hip. His eyes widen as though he's unaware of what it is I'm doing. I ignore that look as I kiss him, trying to tell him without words that regardless of what might happen in the next few days, I'm not going anywhere. I have no idea whether he gets the message, but he rolls me onto my back, looming over me, and deepens the kiss. With my hands fisted in his hair and his hands sliding in opposite directions on my body—one to my breasts, the other rather lower—there is no doubt of where this is going.

His lips leave mine, tracing a fiery path down the side of my face to my ear where he takes a moment to nibble on the lobe until I let out a low groan. "I want you," he whispers into my ear, his fingers finding my entrance and pushing inside. My grip on his back grows tighter and he hisses as my fingernails dig into his skin. I start to pull away, not wanting to hurt him, but the hand not busy with the lower half of my body reaches back to keep my hand in place. "Don't stop. I love knowing you want me, too."

With that, his lips attack mine again with fervor, his fingers working in tandem with his tongue against mine, and I know it's only a matter of a few more movements before this ends. "Christian," I whimper, struggling to hold back.

"I know, baby," he breathes, resting his forehead against mine as the movements of his fingers still inside me. I gasp as his touch disappears, but my disappointment is short-lived as he pulls himself over me, positioning himself, then sinking inside me, his jaw dropping open as our bodies mold into one. Once he's all in, he keeps still for several moments, just looking at me. I know he wants to say something, so, impatient as I am for him to begin moving, I reach up to cup his cheek, which he leans into. After briefly closing his eyes, they open again, and I see some of the fear from before returning. "Ana, whatever happens, please remember _this_ right here, right now, and remember that _this_ is where I want to be, with you for the rest of my life."

I nod. "I know, Christian," I tell him. "I'm not going anywhere and I'll be damned if anybody chases me away from you again."

A look of relief appears on his face along with a small smile. There is no more need for words as he slowly begins to move his hips against mine. My legs pull up slightly to give us a better angle and he moans against my left nipple that he's just taken into his mouth. His body never loses contact with mine as he rocks, bringing us closer to the edge. Christian never increases his pace, but the build-up begins just the same. This isn't just a morning fuck; this is lovemaking at its finest, and it's beyond incredible. We come together, silently, holding each other close and not wanting to face what we both know is ahead of us. With a look of utter reluctance, Christian kisses me once more and pulls away, lying on his side beside me. For several minutes, we just stare at one another, and it's not until we hear the buzzing of Christian's Blackberry that we know our morning of intimacy is at an end.

Sighing heavily, Christian rolls away to answer the call while I wrap the sheet around my body and slide out of bed, heading for the bathroom. I hear the low murmur of my husband's voice as I go about my morning routine. Stepping out of the shower, I nearly lose my balance when I find Christian leaning against the bathroom counter watching me. For a moment, I think he's going to start round two, but when he lets me dress without him stopping me, I know that's not the issue.

"The car will be here in an hour," he says quietly, crossing the room towards me. "And my mother wants to have breakfast with us."

"Only your mother?" I ask curiously as I dry my hair.

"Dad is with Flynn and the prosecuting attorneys going over all the information," he says, already sounding exhausted. "The good news is that they're not letting anything slip past them. Every detail is being scrutinized for the maximum penalty."

"That is good news," I agree quietly. "Do we know what we should expect?"

Sighing and running his hands through his hair, Christian nods. "Mostly," he says. "It's going to be a private hearing, so the press won't have access. It'll be us, the prosecuting team, the defense team, a judge, and Lucy. No jury, so we won't have to sway an entire group of people. That's a plus. The judge will have all the say on punishment and while I doubt any judge will let kidnapping a four-year-old slide, we don't know how strict the sentence will be. Lucy's already given a full confession; the trial will decide whether she's justifiably insane or whether she's putting on a show and everything was premeditated. Which, of course, it was. Clearly she's not the sanest person ever, but she knew fucking well what she was doing and why. She demonstrated that when I spoke to her at the police station. Of course, we're hoping for a real prison sentence as opposed to sending her to an asylum; if she went there, she'd spend a few years under a doctor's care, then there is every possibility she'll be released."

I stare at him in horror. "So she could effectively try coming after us again?"

"No!" Christian says so emphatically that I step back away from him. His gaze softens with apology. "No, Ana. Whatever happens to her, she will never come near us again. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure that." I nod silently. "This is going to end here, Ana, and it will never follow us again."

I keep my thoughts to myself, the ones which question how he can be so certain that we'll never be troubled by this again. Christian's exes seem to come out of the woodwork at the worst possible times...

It's not long before Christian and I are dressed. I'm not surprised to see him in one of his obscenely expensive suits, but my eyes are drawn to what's hanging around his neck: it's The Tie again. And I know damn well why he's doing it: While nobody else is privy to the symbolism of That Tie, the two of us are, and he's trying to show me he's still mine; he's using it as a comforting gesture for me. Surprisingly, it's working. Our fingers laced together, Christian leads me to the lobby of the hotel, then into the restaurant where we can see Grace is already seated, waiting for us. She greets both of us warmly and I pretend I don't see her nervous expression or the one full of sympathy directed solely towards me.

Breakfast is a lovely distraction from the day to come. None of us brings up the trial, instead discussing Teddy and Ava, and other members of the family. Grace brings up my birthday which is approaching quickly. At this, Christian gives me a rather shifty grin at which I narrow my eyes. He's got something planned. Of course he does...

Glancing at his watch as he pays the bill, Christian announces it's time to leave and I suddenly want to run back up to our room and hide. It's not an option and I know it, so instead, I grab Christian's had as he leads me and Grace out to the car where Taylor is waiting. The ride to the courthouse is long and silent, and I can feel the tension building up between all of us. The fingers of one of Christian's hands are pressed into his lips as he stares broodingly out the window while his other hand is wrapped tightly around mine. We pull up outside a large building with stairs leading up from the street to the front doors. On the top of the building is a dome on top of which is a bronze statue of a woman with her arms stretched wide, a sword in one hand and scales in the other. Christian and I passed this building several times during our honeymoon, but we never got the chance to go inside, having always been on our way to somewhere else. I hate that my first visit to this beautiful building in marred with such horrible circumstances, and I know because of those circumstances, I'll never be able to enjoy the history behind it.

As expected there's a crowd of reporters standing at the bottom of the stairs. Taylor puts the car in park, and both he and Sawyer jump out, meeting at Christian's door.

"Don't say anything," Christian warns me. "Don't even react to their questions. These people will take any response and turn it into a full article that will twist everything around."

I nod, glancing at Grace who has a look of defiance and determination on her face as she glares through the tinted windows of the car. I think what I'm seeing is a mother preparing to defend her child. When the door opens, the crowd moves in. Christian grabs my hand and pulls me out of the car, then helps his mother. One of his arms is wrapped protectively around my shoulders; the other around Grace's. Taylor and Sawyer and three other security team members lead us briskly towards the building, pushing through the reporters.

I hear voices shouting questions ("Mrs. Grey, is it true your husband had an affair with your child's kidnapper?" "Are you and your husband swingers?") and clicking of cameras. I'm fighting to keep my gaze straight ahead, despite how badly I want to turn to see how Christian is handling the questions being thrown at us. His fingers are digging into my shoulder almost painfully, but I don't dare say anything about it out here. Finally we arrive inside the building and I have only a moment to look around appreciatively before I'm being directed through hallways. Christian has released his mother from his protective hold, though he still keeps me close. It's not until we turn a corner and see Carrick and John Flynn speaking quietly against the wall that he seems to relax finally.

"Ah, here they are now," Carrick says, smiling at the three of us. Smiling. That has to be a good sign. He greets Grace with a hug and kiss, Christian with a handshake, me with a kiss on the cheek. "Made it through the horde, I see."

"Barely," Christian spats. "I'm just relieved they're not allowed in the courtroom."

Carrick gives him a sympathetic glance as John joins us. "Christian, Ana, good to see you," he says genially. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"So do we," Christian says grimly, shaking the doctor's hand. "Thank you for coming out for this."

John waves him off. "Any excuse to come home is fine with me," he says dismissively.

After a bit of chitchat, Carrick leads us into a small, private room that holds only a table and a few chairs. He gestures for us to sit. "John has completed his examination of Lucy Hastings," he says without hesitation. "He'll present his findings later this morning, but suffice it to say, it comes out in our favor."

Christian relaxes visibly. I'm not sure if this is a reaction of relief that something is going our way or that he is relieved about not having actually broken Lucy to the point of insanity.

"Having said that," Carrick goes on, "the defense has their own psychiatrist who will undoubtedly try to refute John's testimony. That's expected. What we don't know is what they'll use as the catalyst for this supposed mental breakdown. We've got a few ideas, of course, but at this point, she could say anything. I just want you to be prepared." He looks between me and Christian. "Also, while we would prefer not to, there may be a chance Christian will be called to the stand. I want to keep the two of you out of it as much as is possible, so we'll be holding off on that as long as we can. Any questions?"

Christian looks at me and we shake our heads at the same time.

A few minutes later, we're entering another room, this one with four rows of wooden bench seating separating it from the judge's stand and defense and prosecuting tables. We sit in the first row on the left side, and it's not long before people start filing in—lawyers mostly, a couple of witnesses I've never seen before in my life, all of whom Christian is watching. "Do you know them?" I ask him in a whisper.

"No," he says shortly, turning back to face the front. "I think the blonde woman is a friend of Lucy's, though I never met her myself. The others should be store clerks or people Lucy came into contact with the day she took Teddy."

I nod silently, holding onto his hand. A door on the right side of the room opens and I feel my blood freezing in my veins. There is absolutely no way that is the woman I confronted at the police station only a few weeks back. Then she had looked drawn, exhausted, and slightly mental. Now she looks as though she could serve as my twin. I suck in a sharp breath at this thought, eyeing her long brown hair carefully styled, big blue eyes that I suspect to be the product of contact lenses, and a simple blue dress. Clearly someone took the time to make her seem more appealing for the trial.

As Lucy enters alongside her lawyer, I glance at Christian, finding his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed on the woman. She looks around briefly and I see a small smile appear on her lips, a triumphant glint in her eyes. That is until she sees me holding my husband's hand. Because I can, I reach up slowly with my left ear, tucking a strand of hair back and making certain she has a clear view of the ring on my finger. It doesn't matter that she doesn't know exactly what the ring symbolizes; she sneers at me briefly and sits behind a table on the right side of the room.

"What are you smirking about?" Christian asks in my ear.

"Pissing contest," I whisper back. He smothers a laugh and for the next several minutes, his attention is focused solely on me. I can feel Lucy glaring at us, but I manage to block her out, as does Christian. I know he's doing this to set me at ease—as much as I can be set at ease right now—and remind me I'm the one he wants and she doesn't even deserve a glance in her direction.

Minutes later, the entire room is standing as the judge enters. Despite the seriousness of everything around me, I'm stifling a laugh. The judge is older, mid-sixties, I'd guess, and thin with white hair. His beard covers his jawline, and he's got a goatee. I'm immediately reminded of the goats Christian and I saw on that little island during our weekend on _The Grace._ Christian is looking at me oddly as we sit, and I shake my head at him. The judge reads the charges against Lucy—kidnapping, plotting to take an underage child out of the country, etcetera. He then explains that the defense team is seeking a lighter sentence due to mental instability at the time of the crime.

The prosecution makes their opening statements first. "The evidence shows the crime has been premeditated for quite some time," says the lawyer. "Airplane tickets were purchased using cash two days prior to the kidnapping. Arrangements were made to transport the child in question without raising suspicion. The most telling piece of information, however, is that when the defendant arrived at the school to retrieve the child, she signed him out of the school using another woman's name. While this could seem the actions of an instable mind, we will prove that the defendant was in her right mind with no history of mental illness. The prosecution seeks the maximum, strictest possible sentence for the defendant."

They run through all the evidence they have available to them. Proof of purchase of two airplane tickets—one child; one adult—for the day of the kidnapping, purchased days in advance. Just as when she'd signed Teddy out of his school, the adult's name on the ticket was Elena Lincoln. The child's was Theodore Lincoln. The grip Christian has on my hand becomes painfully tight, but I can't utter anything that might get him to let me go, especially when he's growling curses under his breath as though he's about to launch himself across the courtroom and start beating the shit out of somebody. And I'm sure his intended target is the same as mine. It only helps our case that someone has managed to dig up several emails from Elena to Lucy in the weeks leading up to the kidnapping. At first they seemed innocent enough (I roll my eyes at the phrasing, but really, there's no better way to phrase it) as Elena is seemingly comforting Lucy on the loss of her lover. My stomach turns as the letters are read aloud to the court. A few letters in, they're discussing me. About how I've gotten my claws back into Christian and will stop at nothing to bring him down until he's nothing. I can feel Christian shaking in fury and try my best to silently calm him, even though I don't know that I've ever been so angry and sickened in my life. One of the letters suggests the only reason Christian is willing to take me back is for the sake of our son, so perhaps if our son was "taken out of the picture," Christian would realize I have nothing to offer him. Next, there is a series of letters detailing how to best remove Teddy from my care, while causing me the greatest pain imaginable. Lucy is the one to suggest using Elena's name as an alias; Elena thinks it's the best idea ever, knowing she can torture me with only her name. I hate that she knows me that well.

Next, the prosecution calls its first witness: Dr. John Flynn. John is sworn in and takes the stand, gives his name and credentials, and then the questioning begins. "Dr. Flynn, have you been afforded the opportunity to interview the defendant?"

"I have," Flynn answers.

"And what were your findings?"

Flynn sits straight in his chair. "While the defendant exhibits certain signs of mental instability, I do not believe this was the root cause of the crime."

"And what are these signs you speak of?"

"Depression. Obsession. A strong sense of entitlement. The defendant has clearly suffered from heartbreak. But overall, she is intelligent, very responsive and understanding to things around her, and was capable of understanding kidnapping the child in question was wrong and would result in severe punishment." John pauses, his eyes darting towards Christian and me so briefly that if I'd blinked, I'd have missed it. "Furthermore, the defendant possesses a strong skill of manipulation and uses that skill to her benefit."

"In your opinion, Dr. Flynn, do you believe the defendant was capable of differentiating right and wrong on the day in question?"

"Yes. As I previously stated, the defendant was fully aware of her actions and the repercussions of those actions."

"And do you believe the defendant capable and deserving of being sent to a detention center for the entirety of her sentence, whatever that might be?"

"Yes."

The prosecutor nods. "Thank you, Dr. Flynn. That will be all for now."

Flynn nods and steps off the stand, retaking his seat a row or so behind us. He sends us a wink as he passes us by.

"That's it?" I whisper in Christian's direction. "That's all they're going to ask him?"

"That's all he needed to say," whispers Christian grimly.

With a sigh, I turn back to the proceedings where the prosecutor is now explaining the apparent agenda Lucy had when she took my son. If she hadn't been caught when she was, her plan was to fly back to Seattle as she stated at the police station. Then she was going to contact Christian to tell him where Teddy was and that he was safe and that "his family" was waiting for him. If anything would have me running from this room that would undoubtedly be it. Christian's hand around mine is like an anchor, however, and I know he's reading my mind. I turn towards him slightly to shoot him a small smile, to which he can only manage a concerned twist of his lips in return.

The next couple hours drag. Apparently court trials, even one so severe, are painfully boring. The lawyers spend quite a bit of time speaking to one another and the judge, leaving the rest of the courtroom to talk amongst themselves. Unfortunately, since neither Christian nor I can manage speaking at all right now, my eyes continually dart towards Lucy. A couple times, under the guise of flicking lint of her shoulder or glancing around the room, her eyes have met ours. Every time, she's looked at me, she's smirked, like she's in on some joke I'm not privy to. I'm doing everything possible not to divert my eyes from hers whenever they meet mine; I refuse to give the bitch any sort of satisfaction at this point. In fact, I make it a point anytime her gaze drifts in our direction to give Christian some sort of physical affection—a kiss on the cheek, resting my head on his shoulder, playing with his hair. It seems to be having the desired effect: instead of succeeding in getting Christian's attention, which I have no doubt is what she's trying to do, she's watching him give me all of his small, sweet smiles or put his arm around me to pull me closer. And she's getting pissed. There is no doubt in my mind that if we weren't surrounded by people, she'd come after me.

Around three o'clock, the trial is dismissed for the day. Tomorrow morning will be the defense's turn to present their case, as well as the day that we get to hear Lucy's justification for her crime. Lucy is led out of the room by her attorney, but manages to send Christian a glance of what seems to be longing before she disappears behind the door. For his part, Christian's eyes never leave mine as she does so. Once she has, he stands almost immediately, tugging me with him

"Hotel or out for dinner?" he asks quietly, holding me tightly against him as we leave the room just behind his parents.

How he's able to think about eating after what we just experienced is beyond me, but I do know I'm not in the mood to be in the public eye more than I already am. The ride back to the hotel is almost as quiet as the ride there, even though Carrick is joining us as well. I wait for somebody to bring up what just happened; apparently no one is willing. I'm no different. It's a relief to leave Carrick and Grace outside their room as Christian leads me to ours.

When we enter and the door is closed, I'm immediately pulled into my husband's arms, his face buried in my neck. I know today has taken a toll on him and I also know tomorrow is going to be worse. We stand like this for so long that I've lost track of time and only after pressing a brief kiss in the junction between my neck and shoulder does Christian release me. "I'm going to shower," he says quietly, searching my eyes for something. "Would you care to join me?"

Tempting though that is, I decline. "I think I'm just going to have a drink and watch some mindless television to unwind a little," I tell him with a smile, pressing my lips against his briefly. "Go take your shower, baby."

It's more than clear that he's reluctant to leave me alone right now, but eventually he does, allowing me to follow through on my plan. I turn on the television, choose a channel at random, and lie back on the couch, closing my eyes.

Much to my surprise, today went better than I ever thought it would. Having Flynn give his testimony was a plus on our side, though Lucy's attorneys might consider it a conflict of interest since he has both a personal and professional relationship with Christian and me. I'm confident that this will all go in our favor. Or maybe I'm just hopeful. The biggest downside of the day was seeing the way Lucy looked at Christian, how desperately she sought his gaze. I can honestly say that I hate the woman with every fiber of my being, but at the same time, I believe she's truly in love with Christian. It sickens me to just think it, but I need to get used to the idea before tomorrow. And if—

"— _CEO Christian Grey's former mistress is on trial here in London."_

I sit straight up, my eyes wide open as I look at the television. Somehow I chose some sort of gossip show.

" _We've managed to acquire some very intimate photographs of the pair, some of which cannot be shown due to their graphic nature. Others, however, show the pair quite clearly smitten with one another."_

I'm now looking at a series of photographs of my husband with his arms around Lucy, his lips pressed to her forehead. One is of them sitting in some restaurant, holding hands across the table and staring deeply into one another's eyes. Yet another depicts them in a heated embrace.

My breathing is shallow as I look at picture after picture, watching Christian interact with Lucy in ways I believed he only ever interacted with me. Of course, I should have known better. Logically, I've come to terms with the affair. But logic has no place in my mind right now; after today, these pictures strike a chord in me that resonates far more than it would have done only a couple days ago. I feel stifled. I have to get out of here. Without further thought, I struggle to my feet, grab my purse, and nearly knock Christian over as I stumble past him for the door. He's grasping for me, calling my name, begging, but I shake him off and make my retreat.


	35. Chapter 35

As the hot water falls over me, I'm eager to get back to my wife. Today could have been worse, much worse. We haven't learned anything new yet, not that I expected to, and I think Ana handled everything well, all things considered. I have to admit, that little silent "pissing contest" between Ana and Lucy was amusing. Not to mention a turn-on. I know this hasn't been easy for Ana. Having to face Lucy in a public setting for hours on end... I don't know how she does it. Hell, I don't know _why_ she does it. Well, I think I do—she loves me. After all the shit I've put her through, I have no idea how that's possible, but there it is. Much as I hate what we're going through now with the trial, I know I'd never be able to face it without Ana by my side.

Tomorrow is going to be difficult. Lucy will be on the stand for who knows how long and I will be unable to refute anything she says as she's saying it. There is no end to the things she can say, no end to the damage she can do to my reputation or to Ana's self-confidence and stability. God knows I want to protect her from whatever might happen tomorrow, but she's so determined to see this through that I know she won't agree if I suggest sitting tomorrow out. Part of me appreciates what she's doing by not giving Lucy the satisfaction of staying away. She's proving to Lucy, and everyone else, that our marriage can survive through everything. The other part of me never wants to see her hurt again and as a result will go to any lengths to keep her from any further pain.

With a sigh and determination to make this evening the best possible for my wife, I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist, intending to pop out and ask Ana if she wanted to order room service. My entire world shakes when I see my wife, pale, angry, and crying, rushing past me to leave the room. "Ana?" I ask nervously, reaching out of her arm. "Baby, what's wrong?"

She ignores me, yanking her arm for my grasp, and fleeing the room. I stare at the door as it slams shut, wondering what the fuck just happened, wondering why I'm not chasing after her. I turn blindly towards television and feel all the blood drain from my body. On the screen are grainy black and white images that seem to depict me and Lucy in different poses together, all of which would have caused my wife to run from the room in a blind panic.

"Fuck," I breathe, scanning my mind to figure out what to do next. "FUCK!" My hand reaches for the remote control and the next thing I know, the glass screen of the plasma television is shattering along with my world.

When reason returns, I'm on my phone barking orders to Taylor about finding Ana even as I'm struggling one-handed to dress myself. It's only been about two minutes since Ana burst out of here, but I know that's an eternity for somebody who's running the way she was. I have to find her. I can't let her wander London alone, upset, and at risk for any number of threats to fall upon her. I will not let it end like this. Not after everything. I will get her back.

I only hope it's not too late.

* * *

Outside in the cool London air, I wander aimlessly with no real destination. All I know is that I need to get as far from Christian as I can right now or I won't be responsible for my reactions. The images I saw on the television are engrained on my mind and every time they surface, I feel my heart breaking a little more. He swore on everything—me, our marriage, our son—that he told me all there was to tell about his relationship with Lucy. He swore their affair only occurred in private, as it would have been far too obvious if they'd done anything in the open. The expressions on his face when he looked at her, much as they bother me, were nothing new. I saw enough of that on that fucking video. I saw how he looked at her as though she was his world at that very moment, as though I never even existed in his life. Seeing those photos only cements in my mind how much of a fool I've been to believe every fucking word he ever said to me. And after everything he's done to prove himself to me—the remarriage, handing over GEH to me, all his empty promises, the sex—I can only wonder if any of it was true or whether he was just doing what he thought I wanted him to do.

One thought stops me dead in my tracks, causing several pedestrians to maneuver around me to avoid collision. Kate was right about him. She warned me over and over that he hadn't changed and would only end up hurting me again. I hate that she was right. I really do. I wanted to prove them all wrong. Now I'm left feeling worse than I felt when I initially found out about the affair. And I honestly hadn't believed that possible.

I know I need to return to the hotel at some point. I need to confront him. The thought of facing him, though, is painful.

"Anastasia?"

I freeze at the sound of my name, wondering if one of Christian's security team members has found me. Until I realize none of them call me Ana, let alone Anastasia. When I turn around to look, I see a man who has just stepped out of a small restaurant I was passing. "Thomas," I say in surprise. Of all the people I might have expected to run into on my little walk, for some reason he was among the very last. "Hi."

"Hi," he replies as I approach. His eyes drift over me and I'm suddenly aware that I probably look a mess with my puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "Are you all right?"

The concern in his voice almost sets me crying again, but I refrain. "Not really," I say. "I was just walking."

He nods slowly. "I see that," he says quietly. "Why don't you come in and have a seat? I was just having coffee."

I hesitate. I wanted to be alone and by having coffee with Thomas, I would be doing the exact opposite. But then again, I've been stumbling blindly down the sidewalk for who knows how long. I'm cold, I'm tired, and if I were to keep walking, I don't know where I'd end up. And it only takes one silent reminder of the photographs I saw to make my decision. "Sure," I whisper quietly, hugging myself a little more tightly.

With a small smile, Thomas holds open the door for me and leads me to his table where he orders me a cup of coffee before sitting across from me. "I have to admit," he tells me quietly, "I'm surprised to see you."

I sigh. "We're here for the trial," I explain, my gaze on the table between us.

"Ah," he says in realization just before my coffee arrives. I give the waitress a small smile of gratitude and take a sip. Immediately my body is warmer. "Yes, it's been the talk of the town these last few weeks."

"So I've gathered," I mutter bitterly.

Giving me a sympathetic glance, Thomas asks, "Ana, has something happened? You don't have to share with me, obviously," he backtracks quickly, "but if you wanted to, I'd be more than happy to listen."

While I can think of several people probably more qualified to listen to me bitching about my problems than my former boss/date, those people aren't here and I have the sudden desire to talk to somebody. So I do. I tell Thomas about everything—he knew Christian had an affair, and that was why I had been in London, but I explain about the video and the photos and the incredible improvements that have been made in my marriage, and even about the _re_ marriage Christian proposed. At this, I glance down at the third finger of my left hand, wanting desperately to rip off that fucking ring and throw it away. I don't, though. Maybe if I saved that for when I faced Christian, I could make him suffer a little.

"I just don't know what to do, Thomas," I say hoarsely as I drink my third cup of coffee. "I feel like everything he's ever said has been a lie and that I'm a fool for giving into him so easily."

"You're not a fool," Thomas replies, hesitantly reaching over to place his hand on mine in what I know is simply a comforting gesture. "You did what you believed to be right for both yourself and your son. As for those photos... At risk of sounding as though I'm not on your side, those were taken over a year ago. Since then, you say you've come to terms with the affair and have even forgiven your husband what he's done to you and your family. In the grand scheme of things, it's not truly something you should let tear apart all the effort the two of you have made. Giving up on him now, after everything, only makes it so the people trying to hurt you become the victors in this."

Before I entered the restaurant, I had a brief image in my mind about how this meeting might go. Some men might take the vulnerability I'm currently experiences and use it to their advantage, and I almost welcomed the very thought of getting back at Christian by letting something happen with Thomas. But here he is, basically telling me to go back to my husband even after all I've told him. "I just don't know if I can get past it this time," I admit, shaking my head as a few tears leak from my eyes. He squeezes my hand in comfort. "He claimed not to love her dozens of times, while I knew full well there was something more than sex between them. Those photos only prove it."

Thomas's eyebrows shoot up briefly. "Ana, as a fellow man, I feel the need to remind you that we as a species don't always do the logical thing. We tend to fall in love using parts of us that aren't our brain or heart." I choke on my coffee as a laugh bubbles up through my throat. Thomas grins. "I may not know your husband personally and what I do know of him makes him a world-class idiot for his behavior, but I believe he loves you. Men don't glare at other men as though they are about to rip arms off bodies because someone is sitting a little too close to their woman for anything short of true love. I saw the way he looks at you and you at him. The two of you have something incredibly special and as I told you the night of our date, I'd never be able to measure up to him or what the two of you have."

"If it's so special, then why does he insist on hurting me at every turn?" I ask bleakly, managing to take very slight comfort in his words.

"I seriously doubt he does it on purpose. Ana, you really have to decide whether your marriage is worth whatever this world is going to throw at you. Clearly somebody just keeps piling the trouble and hurt higher and higher, but if you love him, you'll have no problem getting through the bad and back to the good."

Surprisingly, I feel better. I still don't know how I'm going to handle this latest situation, but I think I can start calmly working on my options. Thomas and I sit together sipping coffee for another hour or so and just talking. He tells me about how Elena Lincoln suddenly backed out of her investment proposal to Canton Publishing, leaving bitter tastes in the mouths of Thomas and his siblings. I keep my mouth clamped tightly shut, hoping he moves on from this line of discussion; the Bitch Troll is the very last person I want to talk about right now.

When I glance at a clock on the wall behind Thomas, I realize how late it is and vaguely wonder whether Christian and the security team are scouring the city for me. Thomas offers me a ride back to the hotel and I gladly accept. We pull up in front of the building a short time later—I thought I'd walked much farther than I had...—and I thank Thomas for the coffee, the ride, and the talk.

"You're welcome," he tells me sincerely. "And good luck. With everything. You deserve the best of things, Anastasia, and I truly hope you find your happily ever after."

I blush at the sweetness in his tone and suddenly wish I felt something more for him than friendship. With Thomas, I have no doubt that there would be no drama in my world, no mistresses or submissives or child molesters. He could probably give me a simple, happy life, the kind I had hoped to have with Christian.

 _So much for that plan_ , I think to myself. With a farewell to Thomas, I get out of the car and enter the hotel with absolutely no idea what I'm going to be facing when I arrive back at our suite.

* * *

Hours have gone by since I last saw Anastasia. The moment I came to my senses, I had Taylor and Sawyer out looking for her, and I joined them after placing a hasty call to my parents to explain our appointment for dinner was cancelled. I didn't waste time trying to explain why and my parents seemed to understand that something had happened. We searched for hours and finally I located her inside some little restaurant, sitting at a table with a cup of coffee in one hand and the other being held by none other than fucking Thomas Fucking Canton. Naturally my first instinct was to burst into the restaurant, rip off the fucker's arm for touching my wife, then drag her back to the hotel so I could explain and make her understand. But the longer I stood there out of their eyesight, the more I felt the fight leaving me. I watched them for what had to be twenty minutes. They were deep in conversation, clearly he was comforting her. He wiped her tears, squeezed her hand, spoke what I assume were soothing words... In short, everything I should have been doing.

I hadn't wanted to leave, but it was painful to stay and watch. When he said something that made her laugh even while she was crying, I couldn't take anymore. If this had become too much for her to handle, I should just leave her in the hands of someone who can take care of her, comfort her, make her laugh. It went against everything I am, but I forced myself back to the hotel after calling Taylor to end the search and have him place Sawyer near the restaurant—not to intervene between Ana and Canton, just to keep her (them) safe.

At the hotel, I made several phone calls, had information emailed to me in case Ana came back for her things. I at least want the chance to explain what it was she saw. After that, if she leaves me, I won't stand in her way. My heart is already being ripped apart because of the inevitable and for a complete change of plot it isn't my fault this time. Truly, honestly, and completely not my fault. And I've got the proof sitting beside me. Will she understand, though? Will she even believe me? Or will she think I've managed to manipulate all the evidence to fit my desires?

I don't know how I'll be able to go home without her, or even if she does come home with me, how I'll be able to watch her walk right back out of my life. Losing her was one of the worst feelings in the world, but I've only just gotten her back and things seem to have gotten better than they've ever been. Now this.

The door clicks softly shut and I'm on immediate high alert. I've been surrounded by darkness save a small desk lamp since I returned and I'm able to make out a faint shadow outline walking slowly towards me. Instinct tells me to stand and cross the room to her, to pull her in my arms and hold onto her. Instinct tells me beg her to hear me out. Instinct tells me a lot of things, none of which I seem to be capable of at the moment. Because now that Ana is here with me again, I can't do anything but stare at her defeated posture, her arms wrapped tightly and protectively around herself.

"Hi," I choke out through the lump in my throat.

"Hi," she whispers shakily. Her eyes dart to where the television once sat in the entertainment center. "Where's the TV?"

"It broke," I respond, watching her closely. "Have you come to get your things?"

Though I can't quite see her face, I imagine her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" she asks uneasily.

"Your things," I repeat before clarifying, "Before you go back to Canton."

Her entire body stiffens. "How did you know I was with Thomas?"

I snort derisively. Of all the things for her to ask me... "I saw you, Ana," I say tonelessly. "Does it really matter at this point?"

She sighs, but otherwise doesn't respond. It's several minutes before either of us speaks again and as soon as she sucks in a deep, sharp breath, I'm bracing myself for what is to come. "I trusted you," she whispers painfully. "I believed every fucking word you spoke. Every touch, every promise... I thought I could do this, Christian. I thought I could get past this, but those fucking pictures." Her voice cracks and my heart breaks more. "The way you were looking at her..."

"Ana," I say quietly, desperately trying to keep my composure as I pick up one of the photos that was shown on television with shaking hands. "Look at this." I stand and switch on a light to make it easier for both of us to see. She's not currently crying, but she's not far from it, and judging by the expression on her face, I'm only making things worse. Still, I need to explain.

"Are you fucking insane?" she whispers harshly, glaring at both me and the photo in my hand.

I consider her question. Am I? There's every possibility. "Please, Ana," I beg. "It's not what you think."

It looks as though she's either going to slap me or run again. Finally, after several moments of scrutinizing my expression, she nods fractionally, reaching out for the photo. I could probably hand it to her without touching her at all, but I need her touch, however brief it might be. She shivers as my fingers brush hers and I suck in a breath. "What am I supposed to be looking at?" she breathes, forcing her gaze from mine to the photo.

"That's what made you run," I tell her quietly. "Ana, these photos never happened. Or at least not with my involvement."

She stares at me incredulously. "How can you possibly stand there and say that to me?" she asks me evenly. "After everything, you're going to lie to me?"

"It's not a lie," I insist earnestly, turning away briefly to retrieve another set of photos. Unlike the ones Ana saw, these are clear and in picture as opposed to gray and grainy. " _These_ are the original pictures."

She takes them from me and looks at each one. Lucy is, of course, in all of them, but instead of me, there's another man with her. He's around my height, has similar features to mine, but he very obviously isn't me. "Who is this?" she asks slowly.

I sigh in relief. Relief from what, I'm not yet sure. "I don't know," I say softly. "The pictures are the same except that man has been replaced with my picture. And there's more..." I grab another stack of photos, ones I tend to carry with me wherever I go, and hand it to her. Her eyes soften at the pictures. These ones of are the two of us. Holding hands. Walking with our arms around one another. Me pressing my lips against her forehead. I watch silently as she looks between all the different photographs, comparing them to one another. Slowly, she meets my eyes again, confusion replacing the despair and hurt she felt before.

"How..."

"Haven't you ever heard of Photoshop?" I ask gently. "Ana, somebody took the time to get their hands on these photos and spent what I understand to be an exorbitant amount of money to turn them into _those_." I point at the grainy stack. "I realize they don't look like much, that they could have been made into better quality, but don't you see what's going on? Someone's fucking with us. They knew you'd see them and they'd upset you. This is what they wanted, Ana."

She shakes her head in confusion. "Who would do that, though?" she whispers, obviously wondering whether I did all this myself.

I look at her in exasperation. I suppose it doesn't matter how brilliant a woman is; logic and intelligence goes straight out the window in the face of some devastating event. "Anastasia," I say with stained patience. "Who do we know that will do anything and everything to tear us apart, to make you miserable? Who do we know that would go to such ridiculous lengths just to hurt us?"

Her eyes dart all around the room as her mind processes everything she's being told. Once her mouth drops open in shock, I know she's reached the true conclusion. "Elena?" she asks weakly. I only nod. The photos fall from her fingers and I reach out to catch her before she collapses, carrying her over to the couch to sit. It's not until I pull away do I notice she's still managed to hang on to the photos of the two of us. "Oh god, Christian..."

Holy shit, she understands. "Yeah," I breathe against her hair.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, her face buried against my shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh..." I pull her into my lap as she cries. I've never been this calm when she's in tears. Normally I hate seeing her like this, in so much pain, but this time it means there's a chance in hell I might not lose her. I'm still uncertain, though; she realizes the truth about the photos, but I can't get the image of her and Canton holding hands in that fucking restaurant out of my head. Understanding about the photos doesn't mean she's here to stay; she could have come to the conclusion that this was one problem too far and she can't do handle this life—our life—anymore.

While my mind is thinking through the worst-case scenarios, my body has apparently settled on what it wants. Ana is in my lap, ripping at my clothes, desperately kissing every inch of skin she reveals. My fingers are digging into her hips, pressing her against me as her fingers trace heated paths across my chest to my nipples. I groan out loud when she bends to allow the tip of her tongue to graze one. Somehow I manage to remove her shirt and am now placing open-mouthed kisses across her collarbones, scraping my teeth against her shoulder, which she seems to enjoy, if the hissing through her teeth and fingers fisting of my hair are any indication. Without warning, I stand from the couch, latching onto her mouth with mine and kissing her so feverishly I think I might actually lose my balance.

Luckily it's not a long walk to the bedroom. I lay her gently on the bed and stand back just enough to take in the full sight of her. Her chest is heaving. Her face is flushed. Lips swollen. Hair a complete mess. But only semi-naked. _Must correct this..._

With a grin, I reach out to unbutton her jeans and she lifts her bottom enough for me to remove them along with her panties. Still holding her eyes with mine, I bring her panties to my nose and inhale deeply. _Fuck..._ Her scent alone nearly makes me come. Dropping the clothing, I climb over her, straddling her waist as I undo the front clasp of her bra. I groan at the sight of her breasts, her pert nipples, and can't resist the urge to pay them some very deserving attention. Fully aware that I'm grinding against her belly, I sit up to undo my belt buckle, and in her apparent desperation to have me just as naked as she is, Ana's hands join in the fray as they impatiently shove my pants and boxers over my hips. I fall forward onto my hands as she uses her feet to remove the rest of my clothing, kicking them off the side of the bed before returning my attention to my wife. For a few minutes, we only stare at one another, seeking comfort or love or just the need to see that the other wants this just as much. When I can't handle the distance between us again, I crush my lips to hers, kissing her deeply, then begin to work my way down her body, not leaving even a centimeter of skin unkissed, unsucked, unlicked, unnipped. I let my tongue circle her navel and move even lower, lightening my touch just enough to make her squirm. She knows my destination. It's not a secret that it's one of my favorite places on her body. And I have to taste her.

She cries out as the tip of my tongue touches her clit and immediately her fingers are in my hair again, demanding that I pay her proper attention. I think I can live with that. I could spend hours teasing her here between her folds, lapping up every bit of what she gives me. Allowing my fingers to sink into her and we both groan—her at the sensation of stretching for my fingers, me at how incredibly soaking wet she is—I continue working her with my tongue until I feel her body stiffen. Usually, I would tease her a little longer, draw out her pleasure, but we're both desperate for what's to come and I can't wait any longer.

Before she even has the chance to protest, I'm climbing up her body, positioning myself at her entrance. Our lips and tongues tangle and I sink into her with a relieved moan. There's no hesitation: with each thrust I give her, she meets my hips with hers and it's not long before she's gripping me against her, crying out my name as she comes. Another couple thrusts and I bury my face in her neck, emptying myself into her.

At some point, I roll off her, pulling her with me so she's resting against my chest and can hear my frantic heartbeat. There's so much I want to say to her right now, that I _need_ to say to her, but there's only one thing that's appropriate at the moment. The rest can wait.

"I love you, Anastasia."

I feel her smile against my chest. "I love you, too."

And with that, we fall asleep in each other's arms.


	36. Chapter 36

For the last several hours, I've been in Christian's arms in one form or another. We slept for a while then I woke up to the gentle touch of fingers exploring me. Honestly, I've always preferred this method of being woken up to any other. We made love again. There was so much appreciation and reverence in his movements that I know he was trying to tell me how happy he is that I came back to him, that I trusted what he told me about the photos.

The photos. My lips curl in a snarl at the very thought of them. There is nothing more I want in this world than to wrap my fingers around the neck of Elena Lincoln and squeeze until she's dead. I hate her more now than I've ever hated her before. And that's saying something. The fact that she was able to get me to react just as she expected me is infuriating. If last evening had gone differently, I might have actually gone home with Thomas and done something I could never take back. Something I would regret the moment I found out the truth—and probably before that. I feel horrible for the way I reacted to seeing those photos. Christian says he understands the reaction, even though he wishes I would have stuck around long enough to hear him out. I do, too. Though there is part of me that is relieved he saw me with Thomas again. I know it probably hurt him deeply, but now he's felt a very tiny fraction of what I felt watching that video, seeing those photos, despite their having been faked.

"Ana?" his voice whispers against my ear. "Are you awake?"

I thought he'd been fast asleep after round four. Apparently not. "Yes," I whisper back. Expecting round five, I snuggle back into him, feeling him harden against my lower back.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth and tightens his grip around my waist. "Not what I had in mind, baby," he tells me huskily. "I thought we could talk."

"Oh." I'm surprised at my disappointment. Judging by his brief chuckle against my shoulder, he finds my disappointment amusing. "Okay. What shall we discuss?"

His body tenses then shudders. "What happened with Canton?" he breathes as though hoping I won't hear the question so he doesn't have to hear the answer.

With a sigh, I roll over so that I'm facing him, his hand resting possessively and protectively on my hip. His face is nervous and I immediately push aside all vindictive thoughts that suggest embellishing what actually happened as some sort of revenge. "Nothing happened, Christian," I whisper, bringing my hand to his face to cup his cheek. His eyes close at my touch. "Finding him was complete coincidence. I was walking past that restaurant and he saw me. He came out to say hello, saw I was upset, and invited me to join him for coffee. We talked."

"He was holding your hand," he murmured reluctantly.

My eyes widen. How long was he there? "Yes," I acknowledge. "I was telling him what happened and he was comforting me. That's all. Do you want to know what advice he gave me?" He nods warily. "He basically told me to come back to you." Christian's own eyes widen at the news. "He told me that he thinks we have something incredibly special and that if we give in to what Elena and Lucy are doing, they'll win. He said I have to decide if our marriage is worth getting through whatever the world throws at us."

"And is it?" he mouths.

I smile slowly. "I'm here, aren't I?" I ask quietly. "Did you really believe I was leaving you for him?"

He jerks his shoulder in a slight shrug. "It wasn't outside the realm of possibility," he answers. "Seeing the two of you together... I realized he could give you something I couldn't: a quiet life. He wouldn't put you through the pain I have over the years. He could take care of you, comfort you, make you laugh..."

"That's true," I say thoughtfully. "And in the interest of complete honesty, I did have a brief moment when I thought what it might be like to be with him. But when it comes down to it, he's not who I want. I feel nothing but friendship for him and that will never change. He's been there for me when I've needed him, but I could never love him. You're it for me, Christian. If this," I gesture between us, "doesn't work out, nothing ever will for me."

The relief on his face is almost comical, but I've never been less inclined to laugh in my life. "Thank god," he whispers, breathing the words against my forehead. "I know I of all people have no right to question you on something like that, but thank you for telling me." His eyes close briefly as he seems to internally wrestle with something. "I also know my answers on this subject have been cause for confusion and also in the interest of complete honesty, I need to bring this up one last time, especially in light of what's coming up for is in only a few hours." A feeling of dread settles in me at his words. "I can't count the number of times people have asked me about my true feelings for Lucy. I've been wrestling with it for months, trying to figure out what I felt for her."

"Christian," I say urgently. This is not what we need to be discussing right now. And frankly, I don't care about the answer anymore. Whether he loved her. Whether he talked to her about leaving me for her. How he seemed to forget all his feelings for her the moment I found out what had been going on between them and left him. None of it is important anymore and I don't want to hear what he has to say about it. There is a part of me, though, that wants to hear his words, his admissions before I'm blindsided at the trial. Lucy will be taking the stand and there is a high probability that Christian will as well—we still don't know for certain—and maybe it will be best to hear it coming from him now in privacy than later on which will only make me look like an idiot in front of any number of people...

"Please, Ana," he pleads. "Please let me say this." I hesitate but nod fractionally in acquiescence. He gives me a small, forced smile that more resembles a grimace. "As much as it pains me to admit, especially to you, I truly thought I was in love with her, however short-lived it might have been. Any number of things might have contributed to this and I won't bother listing them yet again. There was a point at which I thought about leaving you for her. I can't remember which of us brought it up and it probably doesn't matter at this point. I latched onto that thought almost eagerly because I believed you were preparing to leave me and if that was the case, I thought I needed someone to help me through it."

"Did you ever tell her you loved her?" I hear myself asking, wondering how it is I'm feeling so calm while we're discussing this.

His brow furrows in thought. "I honestly can't remember. Perhaps once. I know I showed up drunk off my ass to her place on one occasion and I have a very vague memory of saying things I couldn't recall the next morning—that may have been one of them. I know you probably won't believe me, but I truly never stopped loving you. Ever. It probably makes me a shit saying it, especially given the context in which I'm saying it, but that's something I need you to understand."

I nod slowly, another question I've been wondering about for months forming in my mind. "If you were in love with her," I begin, "how was it so easy for you to fall out of that when I left you? And how do I know you won't do the same to me in the future?"

The look on his face suggests he's expected this question, even though he hoped it would never come up. "I don't know," he responds. "I think that's what has me so confused about how I truly felt about her. If it was really love, it should have been more difficult to get over. And you're right; if I really loved her it should have been easy for me to move on after you left. In hindsight, I think it was more lust and infatuation than love." He pauses. "I hate that we're in the dark and I can't see your face. I need to know what you're thinking right now, baby."

I sigh. "Christian, this is nothing I haven't figured out for myself," I tell him honestly. I really cannot believe I'm handling this so well and not freaking out in any way. "I've thought these things a million times; I just needed to hear you say it out loud and now that you have, I'm okay. I probably shouldn't be and I think I'll be making an emergency appointment with Flynn at some point very soon, but I'm okay. Nothing's changed for me. All I ask is that you don't make me regret this one day."

He doesn't seem to know how to respond to my request and really, I don't expect him to. So to save him the bother of coming up with something to break the tense silence that's trying to build up between us, I lean forward and press my lips to his, moving them softly and slowly to remind the both of us that we're here together and not giving up despite the intentions of others to make us do just that.

To my surprise, he pulls away first. "Are we okay?" he whispers against my lips. Even in the dark I can see his wide dark eyes looking anxiously at me.

I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I consider his question. "Yes," I respond after a few silent moments. "Yes, we're okay."

"Thank god," he breathes, resting his forehead against mine.

I squirm slightly uncomfortably, feeling the urge to once again apologize. "If, that is, you'll forgive me for the way I reacted and running," I say quietly.

I see him smile slightly. "Nothing to forgive, baby," he whispers back. "Your reaction was fitting considering the situation. I don't know how you do it. I would have reacted much worse."

Raising an eyebrow, I know it's time to break the tension. "As I understand it, you broke a television," I remind him. He filled me in on the state of the hotel suite's television and that the cause was a remote control.

He smirks. "True," he says. "Though with the money I gave the hotel to cover the damages, they could easily put a fucking theater in this room." I giggle and his eyes soften. "We should get some sleep." His tone is full of reluctance. "We've only got a few hours before we have to be at the courthouse and I have a feeling this is going to be a very emotionally draining day."

Sighing with reluctance, I allow Christian to rearrange us so my back is against his front and one of his legs is between mine. He whispers "good night" against my ear before placing a tiny kiss right below it.

Today didn't go nearly like I thought it would, but despite that, I fall asleep quickly with my husband's arms around my waist and a smile on my face.

* * *

"Without a doubt, that's slander."

Ana and I are having breakfast with my parents before the trial, and on Ana's insistence, I brought the photos from last night with us for my father's advice. They'd both seen the photos that were shown on television so they weren't completely blindsided when I brought up the subject. For a few minutes, I could see my parents watching Ana closely as though taking cues from her on how to treat me. If she was still angry and hurt, I have the feeling neither of them would be so friendly towards me this morning.

I even told them about my theory of Elena being the one to release the photos. Mom is beyond livid and I know given the chance she would be more than willing to demonstrate that lividness on her former friend. Dad, on the other hand, is being calmly professional about the whole thing, talking about getting proof of Elena's involvement in the photos, forming a lawsuit. But I don't want to sue Elena. I want her out of my life before she damages what's left of my marriage. Ana doesn't seem at all eager to be overly involved with a lawsuit either, probably for the same reasons, and I'm once again struck with the knowledge of how fucking lucky I am to still have her.

When the time comes that we have to leave for the courthouse, I sense Ana becoming more closed-off to me. She responds to our questions, managing a reassuring smile when I ask her if she's okay, but whenever she tunes out whatever is going on around her, I see her frowning deeply and I know it's because of what is to come.

In light of the photos, my father tells me it will be in our best interest for me to take the stand as yet another form of defense. Lucy's lawyers seem keen to keep me from giving my side of the story and I know whatever comes from my testimony will only work against them. At the same time, I know they're going to tear me apart when it's their turn to question me. My dad assures me that as long as I remain calm and answer all questions honestly, there won't be any issues. I just hope this doesn't backfire.

The grip Ana and I have on each other's hands is almost painful as Lucy enters the courtroom. Just like yesterday, I see her scan the room, her gaze landing on me. Again, there's a shadow of a smirk on her face that only serves to piss me off, until her gaze slides over to Ana. I nearly smile at how Lucy seems to miss a step as she walks to her table at the sight of my wife. To say she's shocked would be an understatement and only solidifies the other theory we had about Lucy also being somehow involved in those photos being leaked. Clearly she believed they would chase Ana away from me. I don't know if she also believed that if Ana ran from me for good I'd be at her side and defense, but I don't give a fuck at this point. Just knowing her level of involvement in Elena's master plan is enough make me want to bury her with my testimony.

Unfortunately, though, apparently Lucy gets to go first. Her lawyers make her case as the jilted lover of a very rich and powerful man who played with her emotions and threw her carelessly to the side. It's not an unfamiliar story as I'm certain there are hundreds of men in my position who have done the same thing with their mistresses. They paint me as the monster in their story—which is expected, though no less maddening—by saying after months of being together, me making promises about leaving my wife, I wiped my hands of Lucy, leaving her emotionally bereft and pining for the man she loved.

It sickens me that my family is hearing all of this. Though given what I've put them through, I deserve this form of torture and more. I can't even bring myself to look at Ana to see how she's handling this; I'm terrified that if I do, I'll see disgust directed towards me, despite her assurances that she knew everything beforehand and nothing was going to drive her away from me.

When Lucy takes the stand, I brace myself for the inevitable emotional display. I have to admit, though, she really knows how to play the emotionally and mentally unbalanced character. Her eyes are wide and nervous as they dart around the courtroom. Whenever they land on me, they dart away quickly and she seems to shrink in her chair as though she's afraid of me. And when she speaks, it's not in the confident way she normally does; rather she uses a small, timid tone, playing up some sort of innocence to the court.

Her lawyer, a tall thin woman with graying hair, approaches her at the stand once she's sworn in and gives her a kind, motherly sort of smile. "Lucy," she says as though speaking to a child, "can you tell us how you came to know Christian Grey?"

Lucy looks startled by the question, but nods fractionally. "We met in Seattle," she says very quietly. The only way the rest of us can even hear what she's saying is due to the microphone placed directly in front of her. "We had the same kickboxing trainer and met that way."

The lawyer nods. "And how did your affair begin?"

Lucy sucks in a shaky breath, a small smile on her face as she apparently recalls our first tryst like it's a cherished memory. "It was in Los Angeles," she explains quietly, a faraway look in her eye. "We were both there on separate business and I saw him in the bar of the hotel where we were both staying. I struck up a conversation with him and we talked for several hours. Then he invited me up to his room."

 _The biggest mistake I've ever made in my life_.

"What happened once you were in his room?"

Blushing, Lucy looks down at her knotted fingers, shy all of a sudden. It hits me at this moment that Elena did one hell of a fucking job instructing her on how to behave like Ana. I narrow my eyes at Lucy. "We slept together," she whispers in wonder.

She goes on to say that yes, she knew I was married with a child, but I'd told her how unhappy I was in my marriage and due to the connection she and I seemed to have, she didn't allow my relationship status to bother her. I can hear Ana's harsh, uneven breathing as she's forced to listen to every detail of my and Lucy's relationship—all the business trips I went on and met Lucy; the gifts I bestowed upon her; all my words twisted around to make her look like a victim. She claims that not only did we begin planning a future together—one that included divorcing my wife, marrying her, and starting our own family—but I also had promised my wife wouldn't get a cent from me when our divorce went through.

This is the point at which I feel my anger bubbling. I never discussed any such things with Lucy. Once or twice when I was feeling exceptionally defeated by my marriage I might have mentioned the very slim possibility of Ana and me divorcing. But not once did I tell Lucy that she and I would be married and start a family. More than anything I want to reassure Ana of this information, to swear to her she is the only woman with whom I want a family, but I know this isn't the time for that.

When we reach the part of the story where Ana found out about the affair, Lucy breaks down in tears, forcing a halt in the proceedings as her lawyer gives her a tissue, some water, and comfort.

"I hate her," I hear Ana whisper to herself. "I truly fucking hate her."

I look over at my wife in shock, having never heard those words come out of her mouth. Not that I can blame her at the moment...

Finally we get to the point of this trial: the kidnapping of my son. Lucy describes how she came to my hotel room in Germany to speak with me. She then claims I invited her in and we had sex. I tense. This is a bold-faced lie and I want nothing more than to stand up and scream the truth at her. I'm desperately hoping Ana believes I was being honest with her when I told her about Lucy's late night visit to my room in Germany—how it was uninvited and the only reason I touched her at all was to push her away after her advances to kiss me. I chance a glance at her, finding her jaw tense. She's fighting the same anger I am.

Lucy next claims that she and I discussed my son, removing him from my wife's custody to make it easier on me to leave her. She says it was I who told her to use a false name to sign Teddy out of his school to throw Anastasia and the police off our trail. Apparently I purchased the plane tickets and gave her detailed instructions on how to leave the country without being noticed, which included changing my son's appearance by altering his hair color. The hand not holding Ana's is experiencing sharp pain at the moment: I'm digging my fingernails into my palm in an attempt to rein in my temper and I know there will be blood on my hand when I look.

Before the judge calls a recess for lunch, Lucy's attorneys close their argument by stating I was responsible for all of Lucy's actions and her current state of mental instability. She was so deeply in love with me that she followed my instructions blindly and truly believed she was in the right to do so, that she couldn't be held responsible for the kidnapping when I gave her permission to take my son.

For lunch, my parents, Ana, and I walk across the street to a small café. Taylor and Sawyer certainly have their work cut out for them as they keep away the reporters, and I'm relieved that one of them thought far enough ahead to shut the café down so we could eat in privacy. This lunch will cost me a pretty penny, but it's worth it to allow my family a bit of peace.

Ana doesn't look at me for more than a few seconds during our meal. She barely touches her food. And when I ask if she's all right, she only nods. This ordeal is taking its toll on her and I hate myself for putting her through this hell. The only upside at the moment is my father's guarantee that a verdict will be reached by the end of the day, Lucy's fate will be decided, and we can all move on with our lives.

I think this makes Ana feel slightly better, as though there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but I know she's thinking ahead to the afternoon and my turn on the stand. While it's true we've discussed the affair in great detail, unlike all those times, I won't be able to have her in my arms at a moment's notice. I'll have to watch every emotion on her face as she listens to my words at a distance and it's going to kill me not to be able to comfort her.

We walk back to the courthouse with a half hour to spare before the trial resumes and my mother excuses herself to use the restroom. Ana quickly decides to join her, leaving me alone in the hallway with my father who is watching me closely like I'm a ticking time bomb, which is actually what I feel like at the moment.

"How are you holding up?" Carrick asks quietly. I immediately notice the concern in his voice.

I shrug. "Better than I expected," I say with a sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I'm more worried about Anastasia."

Carrick nods thoughtfully. "That's one hell of a woman you got, son," he comments. "The fact that she has the stomach to put up with this shit and hasn't yet flown across the courtroom to scratch out that woman's eyeballs... She reminds me of your mother with how easily she handles all this."

I smile sadly. "She is one hell of a woman. And I'm very lucky to still have her at my side. I spent so long underestimating her strength that I had no idea she could even deal with this sort of thing."

My dad gives me a stern look. "Never underestimate your wife, Christian," he tells me firmly. "That's what leads to this sort of situation. I want to see you and Ana succeed more than anything. So does your mother. Cherish her, Christian. Every day. Tell her how much she means to you and how you can't live without her and _show her_. And don't you dare let that girl walk away from you again."

I'm speechless. I don't think he's ever given me relationship advice before, usually leaving that task to my mother, since she seems to be the only one I tend to listen to most of the time. As I start to speak, though, we hear a commotion down the hall. We look at one another with wide eyes as we hear familiar feminine voices shouting, even though we can't quite make out what they're saying.

Taking off at a sprint, I hear my father hot on my heels. We slide around the corner and skid to a stop, staring in shock at the scene before us. My mother and wife are standing with their backs to us and I know their faces are beyond furious as they stare at one Elena fucking Lincoln. There's a handprint on the other woman's cheek, and I don't know who administered that handprint—Ana or Grace. All I know is that I've never seen either woman quite like this before and I hope to never see it again.

"I should kill you for what you did to my son," says my mother, her voice full of a quiet rage I've never heard her use.

"What I did to him?" Elena has the nerve to sneer back. "I saved him, Grace. That boy was on the path to an early grave and if it wasn't for me, you'd be down one son."

Grace steps forward with what I believe to be the intention to slap Elena again, but my father snaps out of his stupor to hold her back. "Grace," he says sternly, grabbing her around the waist. "No. She isn't worth going to jail over."

Elena smirks and her eyes find me, immediately narrowing. "Christian," she simpers. "It's so good to see you."

"Fuck off," I growl, grabbing Ana to hold her back from attacking Elena herself. "How did you get in here?"

"I just wanted to see if you and your dear _wife_ ," she curls her lip over Ana's title, "have recovered from the unfortunate release of those photographs last evening."

I don't get the chance to speak, as Carrick takes over the situation. "Elena, you are in violation of a restraining order," he states firmly. "If you do not immediately remove yourself from the vicinity you will be arrested and I will take great pleasure making sure you spend years behind bars."

This only seems to amuse Elena. "Oh, Carry," she says with a chuckle. "It truly is a shame you denied my attempts to further our relationship all those times. I do find this stern, professional side of you incredibly sexy."

I don't know how she does it, but my mother tears out of my father's arms, crossed the hall before anyone can stop her and slaps Elena hard across the other side of her face. She's unable to do more as several police officers come around the corner followed closely by Taylor and swarm around Elena. Immediately Elena is placed in handcuffs and is being led away. I don't need to see Elena's face to know she is enjoying being restrained in such a way.

Both Ana and Grace are shaking in fury and I quickly turn my wife around to hold her against me while my father attempts to calm and comfort my mother. After several minutes, Taylor reappears, clearing his throat softly to gain our attention.

"Sir, the trial is about to resume," he informs me quietly.

I nod, looking down at Ana. "Do you want to continue or would you prefer going back to the hotel?" I ask her in a whisper. She's upset as it is and I don't want to worsen it by forcing her to endure the rest of the afternoon.

"No," she says determinedly, looking up at me with blazing eyes. "I won't give them the satisfaction of leaving."

A smile grows slowly across my face. "That's my girl," I murmur, bending to kiss her lips gently. I glance at my parents, and Carrick nods tersely at me, letting me know he and my mother have made the same decision as Ana to see this through.

"Are you all right?" I ask Ana as we retake our seats.

She nods, smirks, and meets my gaze. "Better than okay," she tells me. "I'm fucking great. You have no idea how satisfying it was to slap her."

I don't know why I'm surprised to learn that the first handprint on Elena's face was caused by my wife, but I'm also incredibly proud of her and grateful to both her and my mother for what they've done. It shows just how protective they are of me—or just how much they loathe Elena. Either way, the image of the three of them in that hallway is going to stay with me for years. I can't stop myself kissing Ana even as I'm becoming aware that Lucy and her lawyers are returning to the room. When we part, I look up finding Lucy immediately. She's lost all her color as she stares unbelievingly at us, at me. I think she might have actually collapsed if her lawyer didn't grab her by the arm to keep her steady and lead her to the table. I smirk at the sight and I know Ana is enjoying it as well.

The judge enters and we all stand until he's seated. "I understand there was a situation during the recess," he says briskly, eyes darting between the prosecuting and defense lawyers. "I trust this situation has been dealt with?"

"Yes," says the prosecutor. "There will be no further interruptions."

The judge nods once. "Very well," he says. "Defense, call your next witness."

This is my cue. With one final kiss to Ana's knuckles, I stand when my name is called and stride forward to the witness stand. I'm sworn in and take my seat, keeping my eyes locked on Ana's face. She's giving me an encouraging smile as Lucy's lawyer approaches me.

"Mr. Grey," she barks, her tone completely opposite to the one she used with Lucy. "It has already been established that you had an extramarital affair with the defendant. Do you deny this claim?"

"No," I say evenly.

"Do you deny leading the defendant on in terms of your intentions towards her?"

"I do not," I respond, still looking at Ana.

"Did you or did you not discuss leaving your wife for your mistress?"

My jaw tenses. "It may have come up at one point or another," I state carefully, "though I would not be in the minority of women who offered their mistress a future with no intention of following through so they could continue the relationship."

The lawyer raises a pencil thin eyebrow at me. "That may be the case, Mr. Grey, but your offers and promises were factors in Miss Hastings's actions the day your son went missing."

I can see my father's jaw tense as he fights the urge to undoubtedly yell, "OBJECTION!" at the top of his voice, the lawyer in him overriding the rest of his personality.

"I do not believe my behavior played any part in what Miss Hastings has done," I say smoothly. "I had no part in the planning of her kidnapping my son, nor did I encourage her to do so at any time."

"Yet we have evidence of letters, gifts, recordings of the two of you together," says the lawyer. "To the uninformed eye, it certainly suggests the truth behind your intentions. You purchased all manner of material gifts for Miss Hastings—a car, jewelry, even her condominium. Do you deny this?"

I close my eyes, realizing this was the thing I'd forgotten to mention to Anastasia. The gifts I bestowed onto Lucy were given in a similar vein as ones I have given ex-submissives. I'm not sure what it means that Ana doesn't look the least bit surprised or even overly upset at the news—had this also been something she assumed all along? "I don't deny it," I say quietly. "I know there is no excuse for my affair with Miss Hastings, and I won't insult the intelligence of anybody in this room by believing otherwise. But I want it known that I regret my behavior more than anything. It's because of my relationship with Miss Hastings that my son suffered through being taken by a stranger and that is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life."

The questions begin to take a predictable turn—if I was so in love with my wife, why did I partake in an extramarital affair with Lucy; why did I allow Lucy to believe she and I had a future. I answer every one of them as patiently and calmly as I can manage, never taking my eyes off Anastasia. I'm well aware that if she weren't here with me my reactions and answers would be damning.

With one final statement about my powers of manipulation against Lucy's mental well-being, the defense rests their case. I can't help being left feeling as though their case was incredibly weak and that they didn't even begin to prove I had any negative impact on her or her actions. Judging by the look on the faces of Ana and my parents, they feel the same.

The prosecution only has one question for me. "Mr. Grey, at any point during your relationship with Lucy Hastings, did you ever once believe her to be mentally unsound?"

"No," I answer. "Lucy was always very intelligent and aside from our activities together, she always seemed to have a clear picture of right and wrong. I believe her actions were those of a desperate woman seeking the attention of a man whom she thought to be deeply in love with her when the situation was anything but."

"Thank you, Mr. Grey; that will be all."

Without hesitation, I leave the stand and make my way back to my wife, not even bothering to glance in Lucy's direction as I sit beside Ana, pulling her against me. I don't have the opportunity to speak with her as the judge does so first.

"We will recess one last time while I review the evidence and testimony and determine whether the defendant, Lucy Hastings, was fully aware of her actions on the day in question."

We all rise once more as the judge retreats through a side door I assume leads to his chambers, and turn to my wife, pressing a kiss against her temple. "It's almost over, baby," I murmur.

She sighs, leaning into my embrace. "I know," she replies.

I want to ask her what she's thinking, especially after the revelation of the gifts I gave Lucy during our affair. Ana isn't stupid; she'll have realized the connection of the gifts, all of which I also gave her during the time in our relationship that I wanted her as my submissive. It was all standard behavior for me when I began a contract with a woman. Ana will know this. She said once before that she was uncertain whether it was better or worse that Lucy wasn't my submissive, since she knew I never had an emotional attachment to those women. They were strictly playthings for me. And any time I sensed that they wanted more, I tossed them aside like the unwanted toy I believed them to be. I did the same to Lucy, though for different reasons. I suppose it doesn't matter which scenario was worse; the fact is I betrayed my wife's trust, betrayed our vows, and betrayed her love for me. And as I've said a hundred times before, I will spend the rest of my life giving her back what I took from her and I will not rest until she's satisfied.

The judge returns not half an hour later and retakes his seat, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on the stand. "It is my determination in light of all the testimony and evidence that the defendant, Lucy Hastings, is mentally competent to take whatever punishment the court deems suitable." My heart stops beating and my grip on Ana increases. "As a result of this decision, the defendant will return to the custody this court until the time of sentencing. I would further like it to be known that the affair between Miss Hastings and Mr. Grey, while unacceptable, is what I consider to be of much lesser importance than the kidnapping of a child. I will be recommending the strictest punishment possible for this crime and see to it that it is served to my satisfaction."

The courtroom is silent as the judge ends his statement and leaves. Unless I am very much mistaken, we just won. Lucy will be appropriately punished for what she's done. I don't know when it happened, but I'm standing now and Ana is in my arms crying silently in what I believe to be relief and victory. I hold her close and for the first time since she left me, I feel the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. We made it to the other side in one piece, united. Nothing else matters.

"Christian," Ana whispers, standing on tiptoe to reach my ear. "I want to go home now."

Those are without a doubt the best seven words she's ever said to me and I agree without hesitation. This has been a day I will never forget and now it's behind us, and we can go on with our lives.


	37. Chapter 37

The walk from the courtroom to the car, then the ride to the hotel and subsequent walk to our suite is a complete blur. I recall muttering something to my parents along the lines of thanking them for being there today and we'd see them tomorrow for our flight home before following Ana into the room. Her arms have been wrapped around herself since I released her after the judge's verdict. She hasn't spoken, hasn't looked at me... Hell, I don't think the woman has blinked... And I have no idea what it means.

Once the door latches shut behind me, I turn to find her leaning against the couch finally looking at me, albeit with wide eyes and a pale face. She's on the verge of tears and there is only one thing I can think to do at this moment.

"Come here, baby," I murmur, opening my arms. The fact that she doesn't even hesitate to push herself off the back of the couch and drop her arms to come to me shows me more than anything else has thus far. Our arms around each other, Ana sobbing unrestrainedly into my chest, I take a moment to reflect on everything.

The shit she has put up with from me since day fucking one makes her a fucking saint. By some miracle she saw something in me that day she fell into my office that made her want to put up with my controlling nature, my torrid past (though _torrid_ doesn't seem to quite cover it, I'm at a loss for the proper word), everything Elena and Leila and Lucy have thrown her way, not to mention all the horrible and downright cruel things I've said and done to her. She has given me so much and for so long all I seemed to do was take from her without giving her anything in return. And I'm not talking material possessions—Ana couldn't give a flying _fuck_ about material possessions. When she gave me the gift of knowing I was to be a father, I countered that with calling her stupid and accusing her of intentionally getting pregnant. She gave up her dream of working in the publishing world to care for our infant son and I wanted her to end that dream forever. Nothing she ever did was good enough for me. If it wasn't right for my schedule—like having a second child—it wasn't fucking happening. Whenever she disagreed with anything I had to say or wanted her to do, I yelled at her, degraded her, made her feel as though she meant nothing to me.

We stand in the middle of the suite holding on to one another for what has to be nearly fifteen minutes before I finally move us over to the couch to sit. Ana immediately curls up in my lap as though she were a small child and I hold her close to me, alternately kissing her head and whispering comforting words in her ear.

Finally her breathing starts to even out and I feel okay about loosening my hold on her enough to tilt her chin up so that I can look her in the eyes. "Would it be a stupid question if I were to ask if you're all right?" I ask quietly, seriously as I gaze deeply into her eyes, trying to see directly into her soul.

Even with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and tear and mascara-stained tracks down her cheeks, she's never looked more beautiful to me than she does right now. My father's advice from earlier about cherishing her and telling her what she means to me comes back and I stow that away for a little later. "If I said yes, I'd be lying," she tells me, resting her head against my collarbone. "I'm relieved. I'm tired. I just want this over and done with."

I nod in agreement. "Me, too, baby. Ana, I know you're tiring of hearing me say this, but I am really and truly sorry for putting you through this ordeal. Never again will you feel this pain. I promise you that."

She nods warily and I know she's thinking that I've made that promise a million times over the years and every time, I've broken that promise. Regardless, she snuggles closer to me. When she takes in a deep breath, I brace myself for whatever she'll say next. "I don't want to talk about it right now," she begins, "but we do need to discuss some of the things I heard today, namely the gifts."

Swallowing hard, I press my lips to her hair and nod. "I understand," I murmur. "When you're ready, I will tell you whatever you want to know." And I mean it. If she asks the question, there will be no hesitation on my part. Not anymore. She deserves full honesty. Not to mention it probably won't hurt my chances in regaining her trust. Regardless of what she says, I know trusting me completely is still a day-to-day uphill battle for her.

When Ana's breathing slows and evens out, I look down to find her fast asleep against my chest. Smiling fondly, I carefully stand and walk us to the bedroom where I lie her down in the middle of the bed before removing her shoes, dress, and bra, then redress her in a nightgown. I pull the blankets up around her chin, softly kiss her lips, and leave her to rest. There are still a few things here in London I need to take care of before our flight tomorrow and since they need to be done properly, I won't be delegating.

I grab my phone and step out onto the balcony before dialing the number, well aware of the time difference. A surprised voice answers the call. "Ros, Christian," I say briskly, not giving her the chance to respond or hang up on me. "I need a favor..."

An hour later, I'm receiving an email from Ros with several attachments and a _hope this helps_ note. I smile; she's come through for me, just as I knew she would. I quickly scan the documents she uncovered for me, not seeing anything that surprises me, considering the information I've learned over the last few weeks. I knew fucking well there had to be some sort of trouble if they were going to the first person who showed any interest, but I didn't realize it was this grave. Normally I wouldn't even look twice at a place like this—I'd already been turned down once and when it comes to business, I don't beg—but I know this meant something to Anastasia and since she's back here with me, I can no longer hold grudges.

My brow furrows at the computer screen. _Another first? The changes you've made, Grey..._

Smirking, I roll my eyes at myself before setting my plan in motion. Just because I'm letting go of old jealousy in the light of Ana being with me and not somebody else doesn't mean I'm ready to make what I'm about to do publically known. It will all be very anonymous. Money will be transferred through several foreign bank accounts before its final destination and will not be traced back to me. There are just some good deeds I don't want my name attached to.

"Christian?"

I turn and look over my shoulder to find Ana walking into the room looking like she might be sleepwalking. "Hey, baby," I say quietly, closing my laptop and turning my chair towards her. She doesn't hesitate to cross the room and place herself in my lap. "How'd you sleep?"

"Very well," she responds, once again resting her head on my shoulder. "Until I realized you weren't there with me."

I smile apologetically. "I'm sorry," I tell her sincerely. "I just had to finish some business before I joined you."

She looks suspicious. "What business?"

Suddenly she's wide awake and I should have damn well known she'd ask questions. I sigh, hesitating. It's not that I didn't plan on telling her, but I had hoped to put a good deal of distance between us and here before I did so. Her eyes narrow and I see her jaw tense; if I don't give her a suitable answer soon, I'm going to have a long hike back to Seattle when she leaves on the plane without me. From beside my laptop, I reach for a folder and hand it to her.

"What is this?"

She's right to be nervous. The last time I handed her a folder like this, I was handing GEH over to her. This isn't nearly as huge as that, but I certainly understand the reaction. I don't answer, waiting for her to open the folder. She does and I watch her jaw loosen and fall open, and her eyes widen.

"How the hell did you get this?" she breathes, looking at me.

I snort a laugh. "Baby, after all these years, do you really have to ask me that?" I respond.

She looks at me in surprise, then smiles. "Right, of course. Stalker-extraordinaire," she mutters. "How could I have forgotten... Okay, so I'll ask the other pertinent question: _why_ do you have this?"

I think for a moment, trying to find the right words for what I want to say. "Because after everything, you're here," I begin. "It would have been so easy for you to stay with him, live a calm, normal life for a change. If the roles had been reversed and I was in his position, I wouldn't have sent you back to him. I would have taken full fucking advantage of what was in front of me. You told me what he said to you and I'm beyond grateful for that. I don't know another way to show my appreciation than to do this."

"What are you doing?" she asks, still clearly confused.

"Canton Publishing is on a swift downward spiral. They're trying to hide it from their competitors, but it only takes a bit of digging to figure out what's going on over there. They were desperate when Elena came to them to invest and they would have happily signed everything over to the devil if it meant saving their family legacy. When Elena backed out, they started bankruptcy proceedings. I'm putting in my own investment—anonymously—so they don't lose everything. Within a month, they'll be back to level ground and won't have any trouble in the foreseeable future—"

I'm forced to stop speaking when Ana crushes her lips against mine, fisting her hands in my hair to hold me in place as she kisses me furiously. By the time she's finished, we're both panting and gasping for breath. "Not that I'm complaining," I say when I'm able to think semi-clearly again, "but what was that for?"

She smiles. "Because you can be so sweet sometimes," she says softly, placing a lingering kiss on my mouth. "Even if it's anonymous, this really is an incredible gesture, Christian."

I shrug slightly. "Ana, I would give away twice this amount every fucking day if it meant you came home to me every night," I tell her honestly. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you."

I'm not sure why she's thanking me. It's not like she still works for Canton and will be benefiting from the bailout I'm giving them. Maybe for helping out her friend even though it will do nothing for me. Maybe for not sinking the entire Canton family because of my fears that Thomas might try to steal away my wife. Maybe for not hiding a good deed from her. Whatever it is, I don't get the chance to find out. She kisses me again and this time there is no doubt in my mind what's on hers. Never breaking apart from her, I stand and take her back to the bedroom.

* * *

Hours later, I'm lying contentedly against Christian's chest, listening as his heartbeat returns to a more normal pace. This is what I wanted and what I needed: for us to get back to what makes us _us_ after all the courtroom drama. At the thought, I flex my right hand, the one I used to slap Elena Lincoln, and find it still stings.

"What?" Christian asks, cracking open one eye to see me examining my hand. I'm not sure what it is I'm looking for—some sort of residue from having touched such an evil being with my bare skin perhaps.

"My hand still stings," I say in way of an explanation. "You'd think it would have been long enough for that to have faded..."

His brow furrows as he tries to work out why my hand would be stinging and it's a few moments before realization dawns in his mind. He snorts a laugh and shakes his head, bringing my hand to his lips to place several little kisses across my palm which only serves to set my entire body on fire. "How's that feel?" he asks huskily.

"Very nice," I say breathily.

"And how did it feel to finally slap that bitch?"

I laugh. "Better than very nice," I say between snickers. "I have to admit I've harbored a large amount of envy for your mother after she slapped Elena at your birthday party."

"I bet you did," he mutters wryly. "Are you going to tell me what led to that?"

Sighing, I allow Christian to lower my hand back to his chest where he presses it into his skin. For a moment, I revel in the fact that I was the person who was able to get him to the point that he could stand being touched by another human being. I'm very careful to ignore the fact that another woman was touching him in this way without his protests. That part of it still stings quite a bit and much more than slapping Elena ever could.

"Grace and I were in the restroom. I finished first and told her I was going to come find you. When I stepped out the door, Elena was there waiting for us. Of course I demanded to know what she was doing there, how she got there, what she wanted... The list goes on and on. She started in on how I was all wrong for you and how I'll never be what you need. Then she told me how positively perfect Lucy was for you and how I ruined what was the best thing to happen to you." I've been watching his face gradually tense and darken after every one of my words and though I had hoped that we would be home in Seattle before we discussed Elena, I find I need to get this out. "Grace heard that last part—about Lucy being the best thing that ever happened to you—and tried to stop me slapping the bitch. Honestly, it was a pretty half-assed attempt at stopping me. I'm sure she could have if she wanted to."

Christian smirks slightly. "She probably thought it was your turn to have a go."

I smile mischievously. "Probably," I respond. "Anyway, Grace started in on Elena. I don't even remember what she said, I was that furious at her being there... The next thing I knew, you had your arms wrapped around me and Carrick was threatening her." My brow furrows at another part of the conversation that I hadn't had the chance to dwell on. "Speaking of Carrick..."

He sighs heavily. "I have no idea what that was," he tells me, shaking his head. "I don't know if she ever actually propositioned him or if my mother knew... I'm not sure I even _want_ to know. There are just some things that need to remain hidden under lock and key."

The thought of Carrick with Elena causes a shiver to run through my body and Christian pulls the blankets further up our bodies.

"And as for what Elena said to you about Lucy," he says, his voice growing quieter. "Ana, Elena was training Lucy on how to be you, how to steal me away from you for good. Nearly everything Lucy said or did reminded me of you—maybe not at the time, but definitely now in hindsight. I wish I'd seen it then. I wish I'd put it all to a stop."

"I do, too," I tell him. "But it's happened and we're dealing with the repercussions. Together. I'm not going to pretend I'm thrilled that somebody was behind the scenes coaching your mistress on how to keep you interested in her. And I'm sure as fuck not going to pretend that I don't feel as though you very nearly traded me in for a newer, shinier model—"

"Please stop," he says urgently, placing a hand over my mouth. "That's not how I saw it and I know that's not the point." He sighs. "She never would have pulled off being you, Ana. Even if you hadn't found out and things had gone on like they had been, one day I would have stumbled out of that fog and realized you were the one I needed in order to be whole. Nobody could ever replace you and if I'd lost you for good..." He shakes his head hopelessly. "I don't even want to go down that road. Not here. Not now. Not ever. You're mine, Anastasia, and for as long as you'll have me, I'm yours."

Of course there's only one thing I can do in response to those words: before he can even blink, I'm straddling his hip, my hair falling as a curtain around us as I kiss him deeply. I never understood why he believed he needed sex to know that things between us were okay after a fight. Now I think I'm finally starting to understand: This is something neither of us has to think about. This is something that never changes between us. Happy, sad, angry, scared... We can still do this and know the other person is there for us. And especially after today, I need all the reassurance he can give me.

* * *

Next morning, we don't waste time having breakfast at the hotel. We're all eager to get home as quickly as possible so we can forget about everything that's happened here. By nine o'clock, we're in our seats and preparing for takeoff. My parents are sitting towards the back of the jet, whether to give them or us privacy, I'm not sure. Once the jet has leveled off in the sky, the flight attendants bring out the breakfast I arranged to have delivered before our arrival.

Conversation flows surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I can hardly look my father in the eye after the confrontation with Elena. Part of me wants to know what she was talking about; part of me wants to stay as far from that subject as humanly possible. I only hope for his sake, if Elena wasn't full of shit, my mother knew about it ahead of time or my father will be far too busy groveling to do anything else.

After breakfast, Ana decides she needs a nap. I smirk to myself, knowing the reason she's tired is because I kept her awake all night talking and doing... other things. Grace pulls out a book and engrosses herself in its pages and Carrick comes to sit across from me.

"How were things when you got back to the room?" he asks quietly.

I sigh. "They could have been much worse. Ana spent a while in my lap crying and I had no idea what to do for her," I say. "She finally calmed down and she seems fine now, but I don't know if that's just a front for my benefit so I don't get upset because she's upset, or if she's really fine."

My father smiles, chuckling quietly. "I don't think it's a front," he says. "That girl wears her emotions on her sleeve most of the time and if she was truly upset, I have no doubt we'd all notice. Take her at her word, son."

Nodding, I change the subject. "What happened yesterday at the courthouse between Mom, Ana, and Elena," I begin, "what's stopping Elena from pressing charges for them slapping the shit out of her?"

If I didn't know any better, my father, the man who despises violence, is enjoying the replay of what happened. "I wouldn't worry about that," he says dismissively. "Taylor gave the police a statement explaining that Elena was in violation of a restraining order and they're focused on that. There was a brief concern about the restraining order originating from the States and whether it was valid in another country, but I've gotten us around that. She'll be sent back to Seattle for the violation and will be dealt with locally."

"The punishment?"

"Automatic jail time," Carrick informs me. "I'm not sure on length of time, but by the time she's released, we'll be ready to move forward on the embezzlement charges."

Ah, yes... The embezzlement. It seems both Lucy and Elena were involved in scamming Lucy's non-profit organization for millions of dollars over the last year. For the most part, they'd managed to keep their hands clean, squirreling away the money. We haven't worked out what they planned to do with it, but I have no doubt in the world that at least a fraction would have been put towards once again attempting to dismantle my marriage brick-by-brick. "That should keep her out of our hair for a while," I mutter darkly.

Carrick nods in agreement and falls into a thoughtful mood. I know that expression; it's the one he uses when he wants to talk to me about something I might not want to hear. And he's normally right about my not wanting to hear it. "I'm surprised you haven't asked me yet."

"Asked you what?" I say warily, afraid I know exactly where he's going with that opening.

"Elena and me."

I immediately hold up a hand to stop him. "Dad, I really think that's something I don't want to hear about. Ever."

Carrick laughs. "It's nothing like that, Christian," he assures me. "Nothing ever happened between us, if that's what you're worried about."

I'm really not sure I want to have this conversation, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. "Okay," I say slowly. "So what happened?"

"It was while you were away at Harvard," he says promptly. "Around the time she and Linc started having real problems and there were rumors going around that they were splitting up." My eyes widen at this news. I'd always been under the impression that while I was Elena's sub, which didn't end until I had dropped out of Harvard, she wasn't seeing anybody. I know I wasn't, but that was more due to the fact that I knew what she would do to me if she got word that I was screwing random college girls. "Grace had been on-call that week and the hospital needed her to come in for some emergency or another. Elena showed up at the door around ten o'clock that night looking upset. She was looking for your mother of course, but considering the state she was in, I thought I'd be a good friend and let her in, at least until she calmed down enough to drive herself home. We talked a little about Linc and she asked for some advice about how to get around the prenup she signed if they divorced. I've never been Linc's biggest fan, but at least he was smart enough to demand one when he married her. As it was, she took him to the courts for enough alimony to nearly bankrupt him. Anyway, while we were talking, we had a couple drinks. She's always been the flirtatious type, it was part of her personality, but it became blatantly obvious she wasn't just flirting with me after a while. Eventually I called her a cab and sent her home. For one, I would never hurt your mother like that, even if there was some draw between Elena and me, and for another, your sister was due home at any time from being out with her friends."

I caught the subtle jab at my infidelity; I choose to ignore it. "Did you tell Mom?" I want to know.

He nods. "The moment she got home," he confirms. "I think the only thing stopping her from going to Elena's and gouging out her eyes was the knowledge that she'd been drinking and in a vulnerable position, so we both put it out of our minds. Not that that kept either of us from being on our guard any time Elena was around. Your mother slowly distanced herself from Elena after that. Their friendship never recovered, even though Elena had no idea why it was happening."

"I did notice they weren't as close when I left Harvard," I say thoughtfully. "But I don't think I really put too much thought into why."

"Well, that was why," Carrick tells me matter-of-factly. "And of course your mother was only reminded of that incident the night of your birthday, which certainly didn't help matters. The restraint that woman possesses is incredible. And if it hadn't been in practice that night, Grace would have happily strangled Elena with her bare hands." Carrick pauses, looking at me for a moment. "Do me a favor, though, Christian, and don't tell Grace you know about this. She was beyond horrified that Elena brought it up in front of you and Anastasia."

"So why are you telling me now?" I ask, bemused.

Carrick sighs. "Because I want you to know the extent of that woman's lies and manipulation," he tells me, his tone turning stern. "You told me once your relationship with Elena lasted until you were twenty-one, which if I'm right in my calculations is just after you dropped out of college. I don't know the specifics of went on with you and I don't want to know, but I had the feeling you were convinced whatever was going on with you and Elena was exclusive to you and Elena. Meanwhile, she's back here in Seattle trying to seduce me and god only knows who else. Is she why you never dated?"

Why am I having this conversation with my father? "Mostly," I admit. "Back then, at least. And yes, I was under the delusion she and I were exclusive. Just another example of how fucked up my world view was before I met Ana."

Carrick nods his agreement. "I'm glad you found her," he tells me quietly. "And I know I probably should have said this a long time ago, but I apologize for believing the worst of her in the beginning." My brow furrows in thought, trying to work out what he's referring to; then it hits me: after we announced our engagement, my dad pulled me into his study and all but demanded I make Ana sign a prenuptial agreement before the wedding. The fight that ensued from that discussion still to this day goes down in history of being one of the worst ones we've ever had. It was only because of my mother that we started speaking again before the wedding... "I'm always going to be protective of my children and the last thing I wanted to see was all your hard work going to waste if her intentions towards you were less than honorable."

"Have you apologized to Anastasia for this?" I ask curtly. Apparently I'm still harboring ill feelings about this topic. "Because from the very beginning I knew she wasn't the gold digger you tried to make her out to be—"

"I know," Carrick interrupts, raising a placating hand. "I know, son. And yes, I have spoken and apologized to Ana." My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "A couple years ago now. The two of you were arguing about something while you were at the house for dinner and while you and Elliot went off and did something together, Ana just sat on the deck staring out into the yard. We had a very good talk that evening and I apologized wholeheartedly for what I did. She was very kind about it, actually, which only made me feel worse for the things I thought of her."

I smirk slightly. Yes, I am very familiar with Ana's sweet, kind, almost innocent disposition when faced with how others treat her. She's mastered "killing them with kindness" and I have a theory that she sometimes just forgives people to make them feel guilty. "Well, I appreciate your apology. And I'm glad Ana has accepted it as well."

"Good," Carrick says quietly, his eyes darting towards the back of the jet. "So what's next for you two?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" I ask cautiously.

"After this remarriage, is that the extent? Have you discussed having more children?"

Why is my father asking if my wife and I have discussed more children? "No, we haven't," I say shortly. I haven't really given it much thought myself. I've been so focused on winning her back that I haven't really thought any further than the remarriage. But what about more children? I know it's something Ana and I wanted in years past—usually at totally opposite times—but is it still something she thinks about? Given everything I've put her through, I wouldn't be surprised if she told me she didn't want more children because she fears I'll just end up hurting her and them again.

"I never really envisioned myself having children," Carrick says thoughtfully. "After college, I was so focused on my career and your mother that it never even crossed my mind."

"So what changed?" I ask quietly.

He sighs, smiling fondly in memory. "Your mother was determined. We were both just starting out professionally and newly married, but she wanted a family. And of course I wanted to make her happy... A year or so after we married, she got pregnant and I'll never forget the excitement on her face when she told me. It may not have been something I was particularly looking forward to, but I loved seeing your mother so happy. She lost the baby. And she was positively devastated. I thought she was going to drop her career, but somehow she got through it. A few months later, it happened again—she found out she was pregnant, and weeks later, she miscarried. This happened three more times before the doctors finally told us the chance of Grace carrying a pregnancy to full term was slim. We were both upset with that news. I had to watch your mother's dreams being crushed and there was nothing I could do about it. There were options, of course, but we weren't ready to explore them. That was when we first met Elliot."

The smile on my father's face widens and I smile as well. "Six months old, and that little boy melted my heart. Gave me this huge toothless grin and kept those blue eyes locked on me whenever I was in the room. I never thought it would be possible to love a child that wasn't my own biologically, but the second I held Elliot, he stole my heart. Your mother's too. The day he came home with us was the best of my life. I realized it didn't matter if your mother and I couldn't have our own children. There were plenty of other children who needed a loving home. Elliot was always so energetic, though, that we didn't think about adopting again until Grace met you. And then Mia..." He shakes his head in wonder. "I can't imagine my life without any of you in it. All of you had your troubles, some of you more than others... But at the end of the day, biological or not, you're my children and I wouldn't trade you for the world.

"And I realize this doesn't seem to have any relevance to our discussion, but I want you to understand the importance of having your family. I know enough about what happened between you and Anastasia to know you nearly lost the two best things in your life—your wife and son. I don't want to see that happen again. You're a wonderful father, Christian, but you're the same way I was when I was starting my law firm. Your business comes first too much of the time and your home life suffers because of it. If you and Anastasia are determined to make your marriage work, put everything into it. And if another grandchild came along, I don't think your mother would be upset."

I crack a smile, thinking over my father's words. "I'd like another child," I say wistfully. "Not until Ana is ready, though. I need her to trust me to be there for her and our children. I love my son more than anything and I will always regret not being there for the milestones of his life—the first time he sat up, I was at work; the first time he crawled, I was on the other side of the country; his first word..." I'm starting to get angry with myself. Rightfully so.

"It's all about balance, son," Carrick tells me gently. "I know I missed a few birthday parties because of work and I regret that."

"You're here now, though," I say suddenly. "Even though it might have been easier to stay in Bellevue and let me deal with my own messes."

"I'm always here for you, Christian," Carrick says sincerely. "I don't care how old you are or how much you're worth; you're still my son. And I still have no problem dragging you into my study by your ear if you fuck up again, so get your head on straight and take care of your family."

I laugh and a few moments later, my dad joins in. When my mother walks up, eyeing us suspiciously, I sober myself and meet Carrick's eye again. "Thanks, Dad," I tell him quietly before getting up, kissing my mom on the cheek, and making my excuses so I can go curl up behind my wife for the remainder of our flight.

* * *

"Mommy!"

A large smile begins growing on my face when I hear that word. Christian and I get out of the SUV in front of Mia and Ethan's apartment building to find the couple waiting for us, our son and his things at their feet. Christian is chuckling quietly and I know it's because if we hadn't called to say we were ten minutes away, it would look like they couldn't wait to be rid of their nephew.

"Nothing better than four days of babysitting to enforce birth control," Christian says under his breath. I smother my laugh and shoot him a disapproving look that only increases his amusement.

"Hey, baby boy!" I say, reaching down to take my son in my arms, hugging him tightly to me. "I missed you."

"Missed you, Mommy," he says into my shoulder. My heart breaks a little. He's not used to spending so much time from both Christian and me. The anniversary vacation Christian arranged for us last year was the longest he'd ever done so and the weeks after that were spent with him clinging to me every chance he got.

Over the last few weeks, I fear I've neglected my son. There's been so much going on between Christian and me and starting work that my time with Teddy has suffered. For close to a year, nearly every minute of my day was spent with him as my main focus. I had no other real distractions, even when I was working, and I dedicated myself to making sure he was happy and well-cared for; it was the least I could do after ripping him away from his family the way I did.

I feel Christian's arms surround us and he kisses the top of my head. "Let's go home, baby," he says quietly. It's only now that I realize I'm crying, and I don't even know why. Relief, perhaps, that I'm with my family again. Or that there's finally a chance that our lives will return to some semblance of calm and normal.

Faintly, I hear Christian thanking Mia and Ethan for keeping Teddy, and their responses, as I load myself and my son into the car. Christian climbs in beside us and though my gaze is locked on Teddy, who is regaling us with everything he did this weekend, I know he's watching me in concern. If Teddy wasn't in the car, I have no doubt that I would be in his lap while he coaxes me into telling him what's bothering me.

* * *

Gail and Taylor have been given the evening off, leaving Christian, Teddy, and me to have our time together. Teddy is the center of our focus this evening and it's clear he is enjoying all the attention. While Teddy and I are playing some game that involves Legos, toy cars, and a Mister Potato Head, I notice Christian has been very quiet. I look over at him and he's watching Teddy and me with a slightly glazed expression and some glint in his eyes that I can't identify. Longing, perhaps; though longing for what I have no idea. Every time he catches me watching him, he gives me his soft, shy, slightly sad smile that grips my heart. I want to know what he's thinking, what put that expression on his face, but at the same time, I'm slightly afraid of whatever it might be. I know he and Carrick spent a lot of time talking on the flight home and whatever passed between them seemed to deeply affect Christian.

For the first time in my memory, when we dropped Carrick and Grace at their home, Christian actually pulled his father into a hug. Carrick didn't seem as surprised by his son's actions as he might have been a few weeks ago, but he looked pleased, and I know Grace was shocked; I saw a few tears escaping her eyes as she and Carrick went inside.

After bath time, during which Christian and Teddy spend more time playing with the water, splashing each other, than actually getting any washing done, we have an extended story time. Teddy is sandwiched between the two of us, his head resting on Christian's chest, his hand holding onto mine as though he's afraid I'll leave again if he lets go. When he falls asleep, Christian and I gently extricate ourselves from our son and the bed, take our turns kissing him then leave the room with our arms around each other.

Without a word, Christian starts a shower for the two of us and we spend the next half hour or so washing each other, nothing more sexual than the occasional kiss or grazing of fingers passing between us. There's something almost reverent in the way Christian washes my body as though he's fascinated with every inch of skin he washes. When we step out of the shower, he immediately wraps me in a towel, paying no mind to his own body dripping with water, and makes sure I'm warm before sending me into the bedroom with a quiet promise of joining me soon.

I'm nervous for some reason. I just have this feeling he wants to talk to me about something and I don't know what. By the time he climbs into bed beside me, I'm on edge.

"Can I ask you something?" he says quietly, looking at his hands rather than me. I nod jerkily as my heart rate nearly skyrockets in anticipation. He's considering his words carefully, his brow furrowed deeply, then finally meets my gaze. The emotions I see stop my heart for a moment. He's nervous, hopeful, afraid, and sad. I just want to hold him, but I keep my distance, knowing he needs to say whatever is on his mind before I do anything. "I realize I probably don't have much right to ask you this, but I need to know." His tone is earnest, almost desperate. I nod again for him to continue. "Have you considered the thought of having more children?"

My mouth drops open in shock and I know fucking well I'm staring at him like a deer in headlights. Of all the things that I thought might be bothering him, this hadn't even made the list. The worst part is that I have no idea what to say in response, which I know will only send him farther into this brooding mood he's fallen into.

"I don't mean immediately," he amends quickly. "More in the abstract..."

I manage to find my voice. "Children aren't abstract, Christian," I tell him in a whisper.

He nods. "I know," he replies. "I also know we still have a lot to do before we seriously consider having this conversation, but I just wanted to know where you stood."

Where the hell did this come from? We haven't discussed having more children in almost two years and now, seemingly out of the blue, here he is, having this conversation with me after the week we just had. Part of me is relieved that he still wants children with me, though that same part is telling me he never said any such thing; he just wants to know my thoughts on the subject. What does that mean? Does he want more children? Is he just asking so he can figure out how to let me down gently before I start getting my hopes up that we might sometime in the future?

I know I have to be honest with him right now. We need to know where we each stand on everything in regards to our marriage, and if one of us wants something the other doesn't and we just bottle it up so the other doesn't get hurt feelings, we're doomed. "I've always wanted a big family," I hear myself whispering to him, staring at my fingers. "I know what it's like to grow up an only child and I don't want that sort of loneliness for my son. At the same time, though, as much as I hate to say it, things between you and I are still a little murky as far as the future goes and I think I'm a little afraid of what might happen if we bring another child into it."

He sighs heavily and I think I just confirmed the thoughts he's been having. "I agree," he says, swallowing hard. "I know I haven't been what you need when it comes to our family and I wish I could snap my fingers and make it right again, but after everything that's happened, I want another child with you. There is no way I could fault you if you feel differently, especially after the way I initially reacted with the news about Teddy and all the fights we had about having more."

Suddenly, there's something I need to know. "The few times we discussed having children and you agreed, telling me exactly this, you changed your mind out of nowhere, Christian. And every time that happened, it broke my heart. One minute you're this incredibly devoted father and the next you refuse to even discuss it." He actually flinches at my words. "I never understood what made you change your mind."

His eyes close tightly and I can see him warring with himself about what to say next. When his eyes open, I'm surprised to see tears forming. "Because I'm afraid," he tells me, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not of being a father again, because that was one of the best things we ever did. I'm afraid of what you went through to deliver Teddy. I nearly lost both of you that day, Ana, and it nearly killed me. Yes, I want more children, but I cannot stomach the thought of watching you go through that sort of delivery again. If I lost you..." His face contorts as though he's in pain and I move closer to him, wrapping him in my arms. He drops his head to my shoulder and holds me. I don't think he's crying, but he's not far from it.

"Everything tells me to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe," he says into my neck. "And if you're in the position where you and our child are in distress, I can't do that. I never told you what Dr. Greene said to me the day you gave birth."

My entire body stiffens. "What?" I ask slightly fearfully.

Taking a shuddering breath, he pulls away slightly to look me in the eyes. "She told me there was a chance that I might have to choose," he breathes. "I might have to choose between the love of my life and my unborn child. It never actually came to that, but knowing it was a possibility was the worst feeling in the world. How am I supposed to make that decision? If I chose you, you'd resent me for the rest of our lives for the loss of our baby. If I chose the baby, I'd have to face my life without you." He pauses. "I can't even fucking believe I'm about to tell you this... There was a very brief moment when I thought that it might be better if neither of you survived, because at least then there wasn't a constant reminder of my decision. I'd never be able to live with myself, whatever the outcome might have been and I have no idea what I would have done afterwards..." He places his hands on my face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that are falling. "You're my life, Anastasia. You and our son. And I want nothing more than to have the chance to expand our family. But I can't lose you in the process."

I am in absolute shock. Of course I'd known that my delivery of Teddy was far from smooth and I know the complications just seemed to mount, even after I agreed to the cesarean, but I never had even an inkling that it had gotten _that_ bad. It certainly explains a few things, like how Christian had all of a sudden become a hovering father unable to part himself from me or his son for more than a few minutes, and I'm very glad he never told me this before or I would have stopped asking him to have more children. I could never make him go through that.

"Are you saying it's worth the risk now?" I ask tentatively, unable to gage his reactions.

" _Nothing_ is worth the risk of losing you," he tells me, then rolls his eyes. "And I certainly recognize the irony of that statement given what I've put you through. What I'm saying is that I desperately want another child and I'm willing to allow the doctors to know how to care for you. Even Dr. Greene has said she never expected you to have such a difficult birth, but she's confident that now she knows what the outcome might be, she can better treat you so that you don't go through that again."

At some point, we moved so that I'm lying on his chest with his arms wrapped tightly and protectively around me. I look up, resting my chin just over his heart as I consider my next words. "I want another child," I whisper. "Maybe not in the immediate—like you said, we have a lot of work to do on us before that—but I absolutely, without a doubt want our son to have a sibling."

The smile on his face is one of hope, relief, joy, and adoration. Unable to find a response, he flips our positions so that he's above me, kissing me so deeply I can't figure out where I end and he begins. This is where we belong. This is what I thought we'd never get back. I know we're not there yet, but I cannot wait for the moment that we come out on the other side of this mess, stronger than ever. And there is no doubt in my mind that that moment is coming quickly.


	38. Chapter 38

Standing at the end of the hall, I adjust my tie for what has to be the hundredth time. I've been impatiently standing here for nearly an hour, waiting to finalize the most important deal of my life. Taylor shuffles on his feet beside me and I glance over at him to find him looking at me.

"What?" I mutter, turning my gaze back to the end of the hall. Why the hell aren't they here yet? If they've backed out this late in the game, I'm going to have someone's fucking head on my wall. And I don't think it will matter at this point whose it is.

Taylor shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his face as he joins me in my vigil.

The last few months of my life have been a roller coaster. Since Ana and I returned from Lucy's trial in London, we started to rebuild our relationship from the ground up. For the most part, everything has gone incredibly well. There is still the occasional bump in the road—one of us has a bad day, leaving us moody and irritable, and we take it out on the other person—but it hasn't been anything insurmountable.

Among the ups was the call we received from our team of lawyers, my father one of them, informing us about Lucy's sentence.

* * *

" _Mr. and Mrs. Grey, I'm glad you could join us!" Dan Regan, the prosecutor said._

" _We wouldn't miss this for anything," had been my grim response, shooting Ana a sidelong glance that practically begged her to stay at my side. Though looking back, I don't think either of us could go anywhere if we tried._

 _There was some shuffling on someone's end before the conversation picked up again. "Well, we've got some news. The judge has announced Miss Hastings's sentence." Both Ana and I had held our breath. "She is receiving the maximum punishment of fifty years in prison. There will be a hearing in twenty to determine whether the punishment will stick, but considering all the premeditation that went into your son's kidnapping, I don't see anybody deciding to release her." I pulled Ana into my lap and immediately wrapped her in my arms, and I could feel the huge smile on her face as she buries her face in my shoulder. "Naturally her solicitor is attempting to have the sentence overturned; he'd be a fool not to try. It is, however, very unlikely that any judge will reverse the decision. The judge who oversaw the trial has a lot of pull in the judicial system and it is considered a career-ending move to go against what he says or does."_

I'm sure there was much more to the conversation, but I think I might have blacked out. Whether this was due to the overwhelming relief I felt at the news or the fact that Ana's arms were wrapped so tightly around my neck, I don't know. Deep down, I think she believed Lucy would get a light sentence and would be roaming free in a matter of months.

Our celebration that night lasted hours. First we took our son out for dinner. Once Teddy was in bed, we celebrated in the best way I could think of and didn't get more than half an hour of sleep. I've never been more exhausted after sex in my life. Ana was quick to tease that I was getting old. I then showed her just how young I really am. There haven't been any old man jokes since.

* * *

Grumbling so indistinctly I can't even make sense of it, I glance at my watch. They're late. You would think someone who wanted this so much would have the decency to arrive on time. I don't do late and it's inexcusable to be late at the end of a deal like this.

I tug at the sleeves of my suit jacket, smiling slightly at the cufflinks Ana gave me as a wedding gift. She asked me to wear them today as good luck. I'm not sure why she thought I _needed_ good luck, but who am I to go against such an incredibly smart woman as my beautiful Anastasia?

A door opens in the hall to my left and we all turn at my dad's arrival. My jaw tenses at the sight of him and I feel my temper rising; as much as I love Carrick, he is among the last people I want to see right now.

"They'll be along shortly," Carrick assures me. "There were a few... technical difficulties."

My brow furrows at his phrasing and I want to ask a hundred or more questions, but Elliot claps me on the shoulder, which shifts my annoyance to him. "Kate's got it under control," he says dismissively. "There's a bit of a press mob outside and she's getting rid of them."

I nod resignedly. In a surprise move involving several people, Kate began working for me in the weeks following the trial. Without anyone even asking, she took it upon herself to prepare press releases for Ana and me, and I was incredibly impressed with her work. Though the press releases probably didn't do much to satisfy the public's general nosiness, they got the point across that we would not tolerate being harassed to give statements on the subject. She's also helped put out a few other fires that have popped up and one evening I surprised myself by asking her to come work for me. We were at my parents' house for dinner when I made the spontaneous decision and the hush the fell over the table will be something that brings a smirk to my face for years to come.

* * *

" _I'm sorry, what?" Kate asked in a low voice through the tense silence in the room._

 _I cut my chicken and take a bite. "You heard me," I say around my food._

" _How much wine have you had, bro?" Elliot asks, looking between his wife and me as though he's trying to work out which one of us might snap first._

" _Two glasses," I say without preamble. "Not nearly enough for my judgment to be considered impaired. So what do you say, Kate?"_

" _I say you've lost your mind," she says bluntly. "What on earth would make you believe I have even the slightest desire to work for you?"_

 _I shrug. "I just think it might be a good move for you. I know you've been frustrated at the paper and it doesn't take a genius to realize it's only a matter of time before the newspaper medium is gone for good. What will you do then? Local nightly news? Basic cable news channels? Oh, you could start your own internet blog; those are big now, right? Eventually, though, you're going to get bored going through all the options and I can't guarantee that when I wake up in the morning this offer will still be on the table."_

" _Christian, you don't even like me," Kate reminds me, looking shocked at my words. "Why would you want me to work for you?"_

" _My PR team needs fresh blood. They've spent so many years spouting off the same bullshit lines—sorry, Mom—that they've become broken records. The press is ready to eat them alive the second they start to speak and they're losing their effectiveness. You, though, and those press releases you came up with—brilliant. So no, we may not like one another very much, but we're family, and I'm very much interested I keeping my company in my family."_

 _Kate is stunned into silence. Glancing around the table, I realize everyone is in the same state. Ana is looking at me as though she's never seen me before, but I can also see gratefulness and approval in her eyes. I wink at her, knowing this means more to her than a lot of the things I've done in the last few months to make amends with her._

 _Ana had been hesitant to repair her friendship with Kate. As much as she wanted her friend back in her life, she didn't want to involve Kate in things just to have her pull the same shit again. Elliot and I pushed things along. A couple weeks after London, I invited my brother and his family over to the house for a barbeque, and though I wasn't completely honest with Ana when I told her who would be attending—she was under the impression that my parents, Mia, and Ethan would all be there as well—I think she forgave me once she and Kate had it out over everything that had been bothering her. I don't know exactly what was discussed; when Elliot and I returned from the grill, the two of them were embracing, crying, and giggling for some unknown reason. We both breathed a sigh of relief at the sight, having half-expected to come back to a bloodbath._

" _Okay," Kate says as we start in on dessert._

 _When neither of us spoke any further on my offer for her to come work for me, my mother changed the subject to an upcoming benefit she would be hosting at the house._

" _What?" I ask, turning away from my discussion with my dad about baseball to find Kate watching me closely._

" _I said okay," she repeats. "I'll come work for you."_

 _My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?" I ask. I'd come to the conclusion that her silence on the matter was her way of declining the offer. Not that I could blame her if she had; our track record isn't exactly stellar and the only times we really see one another is at family functions such as this._

 _Kate nods. "Yes. You're right. I'm bored out of my mind at the paper. The only news that seems to be of any real demand there is celebrity gossip and much as I'd like to know which D-list actress had a tummy tuck and breast lift, that's not what I signed up for when I got my degree."_

 _I smirk at her. "Good," I say simply. "Monday morning, nine a.m. Be in my office and we'll work out the details."_

 _She gives me a tight smile and we go back to our respective conversations._

 _On Monday morning and nine o'clock sharp, Andrea buzzes me to inform me of my sister-in-law's arrival. This meeting, unlike the last one I arranged for us that, despite what I told her at the time, involved kidnapping her. We worked out the terms of her employment within an hour and I have yet to regret my decision._

* * *

"There is no fucking reason it should be taking this long," I hiss in Elliot's direction. "I thought everything was ready."

Elliot shrugs. "You know them," he says dismissively, hands in his pockets. "Don't worry, Christian. It's not going to be much longer."

He'd better be right or I might just lose my mind.

There has only been one final demon for Ana and me to face together. I put all my effort into ensuring Elena would never bother us again. And in the end it didn't matter. My lawyers and I went forward with revealing Elena's part in the embezzlement from Lucy's company. She was released from police custody a week or so after the trial and the moment her plane touched down in Seattle, she was taking into custody again. At first I think she believed she would receive the Martha Stewart treatment: spend five or six months in federal custody, a nice, cushy stay with good hot meals every night and no concern about being shanked or assaulted in the shower. Then she'd be sent home and placed on house arrest for another year or so. My lawyers made sure there was no deal to be made for Elena. She lost every last penny to her name in an effort to repay the money stolen from Lucy's foundation. All her little side businesses—there were more than even I knew about—were liquidated. There was one that came to light that even I had to laugh about. Apparently Elena had decided to open a very exclusive BDSM club outside Seattle. Her lifestyle had been headline news for weeks, even overshadowing her crime. There wasn't a person in Seattle that wasn't aware of exactly what she was.

A moment of panic had hit me that afternoon when the police were rifling through Elena's personal effects in the club. There were photos everywhere—on the computers, in folders locked in cupboards, stuffed between the pages of books. Photos of her former subs. All of them. And there was no mistaking their identities or what their roles in Elena's life had been. I'd sent my lawyers in the moment I got word about the photos and was able to head off the trouble at the pass. I understood exactly what Elena had done and why. Just like me, she needed leverage against her submissives to avoid any messy blackmail situations. I've still got all mine locked up tightly in my safe and now the photos of me as a teenager naked, tied up, gagged, and hard as a fucking rock are with them.

My legal team along with all the federal investigators was prepared to go to war against Elena Lincoln. I knew there would be a chance that she would involve me in the revelation of her alternate lifestyle and I knew I had to be ready. But one morning just as I was preparing to leave for work, I received a phone call from my father. He had just received a call of his own from the DA. The prison guards where Elena was being held before trial, which was weeks out, had gone to bring her breakfast and had received a shock. Elena was hanging from the ceiling of her cell, her bed sheets wrapped tightly around her neck in a noose. The medical examiner had come to the conclusion that her neck hadn't snapped immediately, which meant she'd suffered. Probably a lot.

I have to be honest. I didn't lose even a minute's sleep over her death and if she hadn't been cremated and her ashes spread in an undisclosed location, Ana and I probably would have danced a jig over her grave.

Elena's death made life a fuck load easier to handle. It was a relief to have that dealt with. And we could _finally_ get on with our lives.

Yanked from my thoughts by the beginning notes on a piano, I snap my head to the end of the hall where my son is walking through the door dressed in his little suit that matches mine exactly down to the silver tie. Ana had tried to overrule that particular tie on our son, but I'd won her over in the end. Holding his hand is my niece Ava wearing a light blue dress. The pair of them is positively adorable and I know we'll be torturing them with the photos of this during their teenage years. I can't wait.

Behind them Mia and Ethan make their entrance and I swear my little sister is actually vibrating as she moves. If not for Ethan's hold on her arm, I think she might start bouncing off the walls. When she sees me, her face lights up and I find myself returning her smile. No one was happier than she when Ana and I announced our plans for the remarriage ceremony and it had taken half the family to calm her down when we informed her we wouldn't be requiring her expert assistance in the planning of the day. It raised her spirits when Ana asked her to be in the bridal party and Mia hadn't hesitated a second in making her opinion about dress selection well known.

Kate and my mom come next and I feel my breaths coming in rapid succession. I know who is waiting just outside the door. I've been waiting to see her all morning. Finally she's here. My incredibly beautiful, wonderfully forgiving, loving wife. Or perhaps bride-to-be might be more apt. We never did decide on what to call each other during the period between when I proposed the remarriage to now. Not that it matters. None of it matters.

Anastasia's blue eyes are locked on mine and in them, I can see every bit of love she holds for me, even after everything I've put her through. It would have been so easy for her to end things with me and live her life in London with our son.

She's at my side now and I reach out to catch a couple tears falling from her eyes before I take her hands in mine. "Hi," I say softly, smiling at her.

She laughs a little. "Hi," she whispers back.

Beaming at one another, we turn to the reverend whose words I tune out. I don't give a shit about what he's saying right now, and I'll probably go to hell for that, but as long as I can look in Ana's eyes the entire way, I think I could happily suffer that fate. It's only when Elliot subtly kicks my shoe that I realize we're at the part of the ceremony where Ana and I speak to each other.

I blink rapidly, bringing myself back to the present and ignoring the little smirk on my wife's face. Turning to face her, I once again take both her hands in mine and take a deep breath to speak. "Anastasia," I say quietly, squeezing her fingers gently. "I cannot even begin to tell you what you mean to me. The simple act of waking in the morning to find you beside me will always be something I treasure. Your smile, your laugh, your touch, and your kiss... Every little thing about you is something I cherish. I've taken you for granted over the years, Ana. All my foolish thoughts have only brought me to the realization that you truly are one of a kind and will never be replaced in my life or my heart. I thought I knew this before, but after suffering through nearly losing you there is nothing in my life more certain than what you mean to me. I will never put you through that sort of pain again. That's my promise to you, my son, and our family. I love you, Anastasia, and I will spend every second of my life showing you."

I slide my ring onto her finger, a simple band to match her engagement ring. With the ring in place I feel as though this is truly a new beginning for Anastasia and me. A new chapter. A new life. And it will count. I'll make sure of that. The look in Ana's eyes tells me she sees the sincerity in mine and it nearly knocks me backwards.

When it's her turn to speak, it takes her several moments for her to gather herself. I smile encouragingly and she takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. "Christian," she begins. "From the moment we first met, I knew you would turn my world upside down. And I wasn't wrong." She gets a laugh from me and the family that bolsters her speaking voice. "You made my life what it is, gave me chances I never thought I'd have, and whatever happens between us, I will always remember those things. I love what we have together, and I love the thought of what we will have. I look forward to every moment between us more than the last. You and our family are and will always be my entire life. More than I can ever describe, I love you, Christian."

With that, she slides her ring onto my finger and I know exactly what comes next. I hear the familiar murmuring from the reverend and it doesn't matter whether he's telling me I can now kiss my bride or that we need to evacuate the church due to a terrorist threat. Ana is in my arms, my lips crushed against hers, and in this moment, I have everything I need.

* * *

We're sat in our backyard overlooking the water and I can't think of a better way to begin this new chapter in our lives. Christian and I are set at a table on the deck while our family is surrounding us at smaller round ones on the grass. For the first time in my recollection, Gail, Taylor, and Sawyer are truly off-duty. The two men look slightly uncomfortable and I see them constantly glancing around the perimeter for the other security guards who are working. And I know Gail is itching to help serve the catered food that she didn't cook or gather the dirty dishes, maybe refresh a couple drinks.

My parents are sitting with Elliot and Kate, all of them laughing at something Ray is telling them. Grace and Carrick are listening patiently as Mia talks a mile a minute and Ethan just swallows another glass of wine. The kids have abandoned their fancy wardrobe and are chasing each other around the yard, squealing at the top of their lungs when they catch one another.

This is how I envisioned my life with Christian. Unbelievable happiness and having my family all gathered in one place together, celebrating. A year ago, I never considered this even a remote possibility, not after what he'd done to me and our marriage, but in the months following my return home, he's more than proved himself to me.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice is right against my ear and I shiver, my mind leading to what he and I will be doing once our family leaves. "You," I answer breathily, feeling him grin against my skin at my reaction. "Me. Us. Our family."

"Our family," he repeats quietly, almost reverently. "That reminds me. I have something for you..."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to exchange _that_ sort of gift until after everyone's left the house."

He chuckles huskily. "We did," he tells me, his hand sliding up my leg until I bat it away, reminding him silently we are basically on display for our family right now and I'm not willing to give them this sort of show. "But that's not what I meant. This is something else. I was going to wait until our trip next week, but I don't want to wait any longer than I have to..."

Curiosity piqued, I look over to find him holding a tiny box that he opens slowly, revealing a charm resting on the velvet pillow within. It's a charm for my bracelet. A sun. It's beautiful...

"It's to symbolize our new beginning," he explains quietly, taking the charm from the box, then taking my right hand where my bracelet hangs on my wrist. "A new day, if you will."

"I love it," I tell him sincerely.

"I'm glad," he murmurs. The charm attached, he leans forward to press his lips against mine briefly before he pulls back. "And unless I'm mistaken, we have one last thing to share with our wedding guests."

I grin, biting my lip, and nod. With a wink, he stands, tapping his wedding ring against his wine glass to gather the attention of the guests.

"If I could have everyone's attention, please," Christian says. Even the kids stop in their tracks. Elliot grabs Ava around the waist and pulls her, giggling, into his lap. Teddy makes a beeline for us and crawls carefully into my lap. "Ana and I just want to thank everyone for joining us today. I know we've done this before, but this time I intend to make it count. I can't even begin to explain to all of you what it means that you've supported us through the last couple years, even though I know more often than not, some of you wanted to slam my head in the floor."

"Here, here!" Kate calls out, raising her wine glass. Everyone laughs. Even Christian grins.

"Regardless, I want everyone here today to know that this woman beside me who has agreed to be my wife all over again is my entire life. I will spend the rest of my days living and breathing for her, just as I should have done from the very beginning." He gestures for me to rise, which I do a little awkwardly as I bring Teddy with me. "And we have one more thing to share with you..."

He glances questioningly at me. I nod. "Under all your seats is an envelope; please remove them," Christian says. Several brows furrow as they do as instructed. Christian and I grin at one another, proud of our little plan. Once everyone has an envelope in their hand, Christian instructs them to open the envelope, which they do slightly warily as though they're waiting for whatever is inside to explode. One by one we hear the gasps as our announcement is revealed. I know what they're looking at: a black and white sonogram photo.

"If you'll turn them over," I say, "the explanation is on the back."

Christian wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and kissing my temple. We chose the wording of the announcement together and I couldn't be more pleased with the final product:

 _Hi! My name is Phoebe Grey and in approximately four months, you'll meet me in person. My mommy and daddy were very surprised to find out about me, but they couldn't have been happier. They already love me very much and I hope you do, too._

 _See you soon!_

Phoebe aka Ana and Christian's happily ever after.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is the end. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, commented and flamed. If anyone is interested in my original published works, you can find the link on my bio page. Thanks again for the support!


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